_ 


LAfcY 


UNIVERSITY  OF  C 
DAVIS 


/  •  • 


CECIL    DREEME. 


BY 


THEODORE   WINTHROP. 


BOSTON: 
TICK  NOR    AND     FIELDS. 

1861. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1861,  by 

TICKNQR     AND     FIELDS, 
in  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  of  the  District  of  Massachusetts. 


University  Press,  Cambridge : 
Stereotyped  and  Printed  by  Welch,  Bigelow,  &  Co. 


CONTENTS. 


PAGE 
BIOGRAPHICAL  SKETCH  OF  THE  AUTHOR  5 


CHAP. 

I.   STILLFLEET  AND  HIS  NEWS  .        ...  21 

II.   CHRYSALIS  COLLEGE          .        .        .        .  31 

III.  RUBBISH  PALACE 38 

IV.  THE  PALACE  AND  ITS  NEIGHBORS   .        .  44 
V.   CHURM  AGAINST  DENSDETH          .        .        .61 

VI.   CHURM  AS  CASSANDRA      .        .        .        .  81 

VII.   CHURM'S  STORY 89 

VIII.   CLARA  DENMAN,  DEAD     .        .        .        .  97 

IX.  LOCKSLEY'S  SCARE Ill 

X.   OVERHEAD,  WITHOUT         .        .        .        .  124 

XL   OVERHEAD,  WITHIN 131 

XII.   DREEME,  ASLEEP 135 

XIII.  DREEME,-  AWAKE             146 


iv  CONTENTS. 

XIV.  A  MILD  ORGIE 156 

XV.  A  MORNING  WITH  DENSDETH         .        .  166 

XVI.  EMMA  DENMAN     .        .        ...        .  187 

XVII.  A  MORNING  WITH  CECIL  DREEME          .  198 

XVIII.  ANOTHER  CASSANDRA          .        .        .  214 

XIX.   CAN  THIS  BE  LOVE  ?       .        .        .        .231 

XX.  A  NOCTURNE 239 

XXI.   LYDIAN  MEASURES 253 

XXII.  A  LAUGH  AND  A  LOOK        .        .        .  261 

XXIII.  A  PARTING       ......  268 

XXIV.  FAME  AWAITS  DREEME        .        .        .  277 
XXV.   CHURM  BEFORE  DREEME'S  PICTURE       .  288 

XXVI.   TOWNER 299 

XXVII.  RALEIGH'S  REVOLT 313 

XXVni.  DENSDETH'S  FAREWELL        .        .        .  320 

XXIX.  DREEME  HIS  OWN  INTERPRETER     .        .  333 

XXX.  DENSDETH'S  DARK  ROOM     ...  352 


BIOGEAPHICAL  SKETCH  OF  THE  AUTHOR, 

BY  GEOKGE  WILLIAM  CURTIS. 


THEODORE  WINTHROP'S  life,  like  a  fire  long  smouldering, 
suddenly  blazed  up  into  a  clear,  bright  flame,  and  vanished. 
Those  of  us  who  were  his  friends  and  neighbors,  by  whose 
firesides  he  sat  familiarly,  and  of  whose  life  upon  the  pleas 
ant  Staten  Island,  where  he  lived,  he  was  so  important  a 
part,  were  so  impressed  by  his  intense  vitality,  that  his  death 
strikes  us  with  peculiar  strangeness,  like  sudden  winter- 
silence  falling  upon  these  hamming  fields  of  June. 

As  I  look  along  the  wooded  brook-side  by  which  he  used 
to  come,  I  should  not  be  surprised  if  I  saw  that  knit,  wiry, 
light  figure  moving  with  quick,  firm,  leopard  tread  over  the 
grass,  —  the  keen  gray  eye,  the  clustering  fair  hair,  the  kind, 
serious  smile,  the  mien  of  undaunted  patience.  If  you  did 
not  know  him,  you  would  have  found  his  greeting  a  little 
constrained,  —  not  from  shyness,  but  from  genuine  modesty 
and  the  habit  of  society.  You  would  have  remarked  that 
he  was  silent  and  observant,  rather  than  talkative  ;  and 
whatever  he  said,  however  gay  or  grave,  would  have  had 
the  reserve  of  sadness  upon  which  his  whole  character  was 
drawn.  If  it  were  a  woman  who  saw  him  for  the  first  time, 
she  would  inevitably  see  him  through  a  slight  cloud  of  mis 
apprehension  ;  for  the  man  and  his  manner  were  a  little  at 
variance.  The  chance  is,  that  at  the  end  of  five  minutes 


6  BIOGRAPHICAL   SKETCH 

she  would  have  thought  him  conceited.  At  the  end  of  five 
months  she  would  have  known  him  as  one  of  the  simplest 
and  most  truly  modest  of  men. 

And  he  had  the  heroic  sincerity  which  belongs  to  such 
modesty.  Of  a  noble  ambition,  and  sensitive  to  applause,  — 
as  every  delicate  nature  veined  with  genius  always  is,  —  he 
would  not  provoke  the  applause  by  doing  anything  which, 
although  it  lay  easily  within  his  power,  was  yet  not  wholly 
approved  by  him  as  worthy.  Many  men  are  ambitious  and 
full  of  talent,  and  when  the  prize  does  not  fairly  come  they 
snatch  at  it  unfairly.  This  was  precisely  what  he  could 
not  do.  He  would  strive  and  deserve ;  but  if  the  crown 
were  not  laid  upon  his  head  in  the  clear  light  of  day  and  by 
confession  of  absolute  merit,  he  could  ride  to  his  place  again 
and  wait,  looking  with  no  envy,  but  in  patient  wonder  and 
with  critical  curiosity,  upon  the  victors.  It  is  this  which  he 
expresses  in  the  paper  in  the  July  number  of  the  Atlantic 
Monthly  Magazine,  "  Washington  as  a  Camp,"  when  he  says, 
"  I  have  heretofore  been  proud  of  my  individuality,  and  re 
sisted,  so  far  as  one  may,  all  the  world's  attempts  to  merge 
me  in  the  mass." 

It  was  this  which  made  many  who  knew  him  much,  but 
not  truly,  feel  that  he  was  purposeless  and  restless.  They 
knew  his  talent,  his  opportunities.  Why  does  he  not  con 
centrate  ?  Why  does  he  not  bring  himself  to  bear  ?  He 
did  not  plead  his  ill-health ;  nor  would  they  have  allowed 
the  plea.  The  difficulty  was  deeper.  He  felt  that  he  had 
shown  his  credentials,  and  they  were  not  accepted.  "  I  can 
wait,  I  can  wait,"  was  the  answer  his  life  made  to  the  impa 
tience  of  his  friends. 

We  are  all  fond  of  saying  that  a  man  of  real  gifts  will  fit 
himself  to  the  work  of  any  time  ;  and  so  he  will.  But  it  is 
not  necessarily  to  the  first  thing  that  offers.  There  is  always 
latent  in  civilized  society  a  certain  amount  of  what  may  be 


OF   THE   AUTHOR.  7 

called  Sir  Philip  Sidney  genius,  which  will  seem  elegant  and 
listless  and  aimless  enough  until  the  congenial  chance  ap 
pears.  A  plant  may  grow  in  a  cellar ;  but  it  will  flower  only 
under  the  due  sun  and  warmth.  Sir  Philip  Sidney  was  but 
a  lovely  possibility,  until  he  went  to  be  Governor  of  Flush 
ing.  What  else  was  our  friend,  until  he  went  to  the  war  ? 

The  age  of  Elizabeth  did  not  monopolize  the  heroes,  and 
they  are  always  essentially  the  same.  When,  for  instance, 
I  read  in  a  letter  of  Hubert  Languet's  to  Sidney,  "  You  are 
not  over-cheerful  by  nature,"  or  when,  in  another,  he  speaks 
of  the  portrait  that  Paul  Veronese  painted  of  Sidney,  and 
says,  "  The  painter  has  represented  you  sad  and  thought 
ful,"  I  can  believe  that  he  is  speaking  of  my  neighbor.  Or 
when  I  remember  what  Sidney  wrote  to  his  younger  brother, 
—  "  Being  a  gentleman  born,  you  purpose  to  furnish  your 
self  with  the  knowledge  of  such  things  as  may  be  serviceable 
to  your  country  and  calling,"  —  or  what  he  wrote  to  Lan- 
guet,  —  "  Our  Princes  are  enjoying  too  deep  a  slumber :  I 
cannot  think  there  is  any  man  possessed  of  common  under 
standing  who  does  not  see  to  what  these  rough  storms  are 
driving  by  which  all  Christendom  has  been  agitated  now 
these  many  years," — I  seem  to  hear  my  friend,  as  he  used  to 
talk  on  the  Sunday  evenings  when  he  sat  in  this  huge  cane- 
chair  at  my  side,  in  which  I  saw  him  last,  and  in  which  I  shall 
henceforth  always  see  him. 

Nor  is  it  unfair  to  remember  just  here  that  he  bore  one 
of  the  few  really  historic  names  in  this  country.  He  never 
spoke  of  it ;  but  we  should  all  have  been  sorry  not  to  feel 
that  he  was  glad  to  have  sprung  straight  from  that  second 
John  Winthrop  who  was  the  first  Governor  of  Connecticut, 
the  younger  sister  colony  of  Massachusetts  Bay,  —  the  John 
Winthrop  who  obtained  the  charter  of  privileges  for  his 
colony.  How  clearly  the  quality  of  the  man  has  been 
transmitted  !  How  brightly  the  old  name  shines  out  again  I 


8  BIOGRAPHICAL   SKETCH 

He  was  born  in  New  Haven  on  the  22d  of  September, 
1828,  and  was  a  grave,  delicate,  rather  precocious  child. 
He  was  at  school  only  in  New  Haven,  and  entered  Yale 
College  just  as  he  was  sixteen.  The  pure,  manly  morality 
which  was  the  substance  of  his  character,  and  his  brilliant 
exploits  of  scholarship,  made  him  the  idol  of  his  college 
friends,  who  saw  in  him  the  promise  of  the  splendid  career 
which  the  fond  faith  of  students  allots  to  the  favorite  class 
mate.  He  studied  for  the  Clark  scholarship,  and  gained  it ; 
and  his  name,  in  the  order  of  time,  is  first  upon  the  roll  of 
that  foundation.  For  the  Berkeleian  scholarship  he  and 
another  were  judged  equal,  and,  drawing  lots,  the  other 
gained  the  scholarship ;  but  they  divided  the  honor. 

In  college  his  favorite  studies  were  Greek  and  mental 
philosophy.  He  never  lost  the  scholarly  taste  and  habit. 
A  wide  reader,  he  retained  knowledge  with  little  effort,  and 
often  surprised  his  friends  by  the  variety  of  his  information. 
Yet  it  was  not  strange,  for  he  was  born  a  scholar.  His 
mother  was  the  great-granddaughter  of  old  President  Ed 
wards;  and  among  his  relations  upon  the  maternal  side, 
Winthrop  counted  six  Presidents  of  colleges.  Perhaps  also 
in  this  learned  descent  we  may  find  the  secret  of  his 
early  seriousness.  Thoughtful  and  self-criticising,  he  was 
peculiarly  sensible  to  religious  influences,  under  which  his 
criticism  easily  became  self-accusation,  and  his  sensitive 
seriousness  grew  sometimes  morbid.  He  would  have  studied 
for  the  ministry  or  a  professorship,  upon  leaving  college, 
except  for  his  failing  health. 

In  the  later  days,  when  I  knew  him,  the  feverish  ardor 
of  the  first  religious  impulse  was  past.  It  had  given  place 
to  a  faith  much  too  deep  and  sacred  to  talk  about,  yet 
holding  him  always  with  serene,  steady  poise  in  the  purest 
region  of  life  and  feeling.  There  was  no  franker  or  more 
sympathetic  companion  for  young  men  of  his  own  age  than 


OF   THE   AUTHOR.  9 

he ;  but  his  conversation  fell  from  his  lips  as  unsullied  as  his 
soul. 

He  graduated  in  1848,  when  he  was  twenty  years  old ; 
and  for  the  sake  of  his  health,  which  was  seriously  shat 
tered,  —  an  ill-health  that  colored  all  his  life,  —  he  set  out 
upon  his  travels.  He  went  first  to  England,  spending  much 
time  at  Oxford,  where  he  made  pleasant  acquaintances,  and 
walking  through  Scotland.  He  then  crossed  over  to  France 
and  Germany,  exploring  Switzerland  very  thoroughly  upon 
foot,  —  once  or  twice  escaping  great  dangers  among  the 
mountains,  —  and  pushed  on  to  Italy  and  Greece,  still  walk 
ing  much  of  the  way.  In  Italy  he  made  the  acquaintance 
of  Mr.  W.  H.  Aspinwall,  of  New  York,  and  upon  his  return 
became  tutor  to  Mr.  AspinwalFs  son.  He  presently  accom 
panied  his  pupil  and  a  nephew  of  Mr.  Aspinwall,  who  were 
going  to  a  school  in  Switzerland ;  and  after  a  second  short 
tour  of  six  months  in  Europe  he  returned  to  New  York, 
and  entered  Mr.  Aspinwall's  counting-house.  In  the  em 
ploy  of  the  Pacific  Steamship  Company  he  went  to  Panama 
and  resided  for  about  two  years,  travelling,  and  often  ill  of 
the  fevers  of  the  country.  Before  his  return  he  travelled 
through  California  and  Oregon,  —  went  to  Vancouver's 
Island,  Puget  Sound,  and  the  Hudson  Bay  Company's  sta 
tion  there.  At  the  Dalles  he  was  smitten  with  the  small 
pox,  and  lay  ill  for  six  weeks.  He  often  spoke  with  the 
warmest  gratitude  of  the  kind  care  that  was  taken  of  him 
there.  But  when  only  partially  recovered  he  plunged  off 
again  into  the  wilderness.  At  another  time  he  fell  very  ill 
upon  the  plains,  and  lay  down,  as  he  supposed,  to  die  ;  but 
after  some  time  struggled  up  and  on  again. 

He   returned   to   the   counting-room,  but,   unsated   with 

adventure,  joined  the  disastrous  expedition  of  Lieutenant 

Strain.     During  the  time  he  remained  with  it  his  health 

was  still  more  weakened,  and  he  came  home  again  in  1854. 

1* 


10  BIOGRAPHICAL   SKETCH 

In  the  following  year  he  studied  law  and  was  admitted  to 
the  bar.  In  1856  he  entered  heartily  into  the  Fremont 
campaign,  and  from  the  strongest  conviction.  He  went 
into  some  of  the  dark  districts  of  Pennsylvania  and  spoke 
incessantly.  The  roving  life  and  its  picturesque  episodes, 
with  the  earnest  conviction  which  inspired  him,  made  the 
summer  and  autumn  exciting  and  pleasant.  The  following 
year  he  went  to  St.  Louis  to  practise  law.  The  climate  was 
unkind  to  him,  and  he  returned  and  began  the  practice 
in  New  York.  But  he  could  not  be  a  lawyer.  His  health 
was  too  uncertain,  and  his  tastes  and  ambition  allured  him 
elsewhere.  His  mind  was  brimming  with  the  results  of 
observation.  His  fancy  was  alert  and  inventive,  and  he 
wrote  tales  and  novels.  At  the  same  time  he  delighted  to 
haunt  the  studio  of  his  friend  Church,  the  painter,  and 
watch  day  by  day  the  progress  of  his  picture,  the  Heart  of 
the  Andes.  It  so  fired  his  imagination  that  he  wrote  a 
description  of  it,  in  which,  as  if  rivalling  the  tropical  and 
tangled  richness  of  the  picture,  he  threw  together  such 
heaps  and  masses  of  gorgeous  words  that  the  reader  was 
dazzled  and  bewildered. 

The  wild  campaigning  life  was  always  a  secret  passion 
with  him.  His  stories  of  travel  were  so  graphic  and  warm, 
that  I  remember  one  evening,  after  we  had  been  tracing, 
upon  the  map  a  route  he  had  taken,  and  he  had  touched- 
the  whole  region  into  life  with  his  description,  my  younger 
brother,  who  had  sat  by  and  listened  with  wide  eyes  all  the 
evening,  exclaimed  with  a  sigh  of  regretful  satisfaction,  as 
the  door  closed  upon  our  story-teller,  "  It 's  as  good  as  Rob 
inson  Crusoe  ! "  Yet,  with  all  his  fondness  and  fitness  for; 
that  kind  of  life,  or  indeed  any  active  administrative  func 
tion,  his  literary  ambition  seemed  to  be  the  deepest  and 
strongest. 

He  had  always  been  writing.     In  college  and  upon  his 


OF   THE  AUTHOR.  11 

travels  he  kept  diaries  ;  and  he  has  left  behind  him  several 
novels,  tales,  sketches  of  travel,  and  journals.  The  first 
published  writing  of  his  which  is  well  known  is  his  descrip 
tion,  in  the  June  (1861)  number  of  the  Atlantic  Monthly 
Magazine,  of  the  March  of  the  Seventh  Regiment  of  New 
York  to  Washington.  It  was  charming  by  its  graceful, 
sparkling,  crisp,  off-hand  dash  and  ease.  But  it  is  only  the 
practised  hand  that  can  "  dash  off"  effectively.  Let  any 
other  clever  member  of  the  clever  regiment,  who  has  never 
written,  try  to  dash  off  the  story  of  a  day  or  a  week  in  the 
life  of  the  regiment,  and  he  will  see  that  the  writer  did  that 
little  thing  well  because  he  had  done  large  things  carefully. 
Yet,  amid  all  the  hurry  and  brilliant  bustle  of  the  articles, 
the  author  is,  as  he  was  in  the  most  bustling  moment  of  the 
life  they  described,  a  spectator,  an  artist.  He  looks  on  at 
himself  and  the  scene  of  which  he  is  part.  He  is  willing  to 
merge  his  individuality ;  but  he  does  not  merge  it,  for  he 
could  not. 

So,  wandering,  hoping,  trying,  waiting,  thirty-two  years 
of  his  life  went  by,  and  they  left  him  true,  sympathetic, 
patient.  The  sharp  private  griefs  that  sting  the  heart  so 
deeply,  and  leave  a  little  poison  behind,  did  not  spare  him. 
But  he  bore  everything  so  bravely,  so  silently,  —  often  silent 
for  a  whole  evening  in  the  midst  of  pleasant  talkers,  but  not 
impertinently  sad,  nor  ever  sullen,  —  that  we  all  loved  him 
a  little  more  at  such  times.  The  ill-health  from  which  he 
always  suffered,  and  a  flower-like  delicacy  of  temperament, 
the  yearning  desire  to  be  of  some  service  in  the  world, 
coupled  with  the  curious,  critical  introspection  which  marks 
every  sensitive  and  refined  nature  and  paralyzes  action, 
overcast  his  life  and  manner  to  the  common  eye  with  pen- 
siveness  and  even  sternness.  He  wrote  verses  in  which  his 
heart  seems  to  exhale  in  a  sigh  of  sadness.  But  he  was  not 
in  the  least  a  sentimentalist.  The  womanly  grace  of  tern- 


12  BIOGRAPHICAL   SKETCH 

perament  merely  enhanced  the  unusual  manliness  of  his 
character  and  impression.  It  was  like  a  delicate  carnation 
upon  the  cheek  of  a  robust  man.  For  his  humor  was  ex 
uberant.  He  seldom  laughed  loud,  but  his  smile  was  sweet 
and  appreciative.  Then  the  range  of  his  sympathies  was 
so  large,  that  he  enjoyed  every  kind  of  life  and  person,  and 
was  everywhere  at  home.  In  walking  and  riding,  in  skat 
ing  and  running,  in  games  out  of  doors  and  in,  no  one  of  us 
all  in  the  neighborhood  was  so  expert,  so  agile  as  he.  For, 
above  all  things,  he  had  what  we  Yankees  call  faculty,  — 
the  knack  of  doing  everything.  If  he  rode  with  a  neighbor 
who  was  a  good  horseman,  Theodore,  who  was  a  Centaur, 
when  he  mounted,  would  put  any  horse  at  any  gate  or 
fence  ;  for  it  did  not  occur  to  him  that  he  could  not  do 
whatever  was  to  be  done.  Often,  after  writing  for  a  few 
hours  in  the  morning,  he  stepped  out  of  doors,  and,  from  pure 
love  of  the  fun,  leaped  and  turned  summersaults  on  the 
grass,  before  going  up  to  town.  In  walking  about  the  island, 
he  constantly  stopped  by  the  road-side  fences,  and,  grasping 
the  highest  rail,  swung  himself  swiftly  and  neatly  over  and 
back  again,  resuming  the  walk  and  the  talk  without  delay. 

I  do  not  wish  to  make  him  too  much  a  hero.  "  Death," 
says  Bacon,  "  openeth  the  gate  to  good  fame."  When  a 
neighbor  dies,  his  form  and  quality  appear  clearly,  as  if  he 
had  been  dead  a  thousand  years.  Then  we  see  what  we 
only  felt  before.  Heroes  in  history  seem  to  us  poetic  be 
cause  they  are  there.  But  if  we  should  tell  the  simple 
truth  of  some  of  our  neighbors,  it  would  sound  like  poetry. 
Winthrop  was  one  of  the  men  who  represent  the  manly 
and  poetic  qualities  that  always  exist  around  us,  —  not  great 
genius,  which  is  ever  salient,  but  the  fine  fibre  of  manhood 
that  makes  the  worth  of  the  race. 

Closely  engaged  with  his  literary  employments,  and  more 
quiet  than  ever,  he  -took  less  active  part  in  the  last  election. 


OF   THE   AUTHOR.  13 

But  when  the  menace  of  treason  became  an  aggressive  act, 
he  saw  very  clearly  the  inevitable  necessity  of  arms.  We 
all  talked  of  it  constantly,  —  watching  the  news,  —  chafing 
at  the  sad  necessity  of  delay,  which  was  sure  to  confuse 
foreign  opinion  and  alienate  sympathy,  as  has  proved  to  be 
the  case.  As  matters  advanced  and  the  war-cloud  rolled 
up  thicker  and  blacker,  he  looked  at  it  with  the  secret 
satisfaction  that  war  for  such  a  cause  opened  his  career  both 
as  thinker  and  actor.  The  admirable  coolness,  the  prompt 
ness,  the  cheerful  patience,  the  heroic  ardor,  the  intelligence, 
the  tough  experience  of  campaigning,  the  profound  con 
viction  that  the  cause  was  in  truth  "  the  good  old  cause," 
which  was  now  to  come  to  the  death-grapple  with  its  old 
enemy,  Justice  against  Injustice,  Order  against  Anarchy,  — 
all  these  should  now  have  their  turn,  and  the  wanderer 
and  waiter  "settle  himself"  at  last. 

We  took  a  long  walk  together  on  the  Sunday  that  brought 
the  news  of  the  capture  of  Fort  Sumter.  He  was  thoroughly 
alive  with  a  bright,  earnest  forecast  of  his  part  in  the  com 
ing  work.  Returning  home  with  me,  he  sat  until  late  in 
the  evening  talking  with  an  unwonted  spirit,  saying  play 
fully,  I  remember,  that,  if  his  friends  would  only  give  him 
a  horse,  he  would  ride  straight  to  victory.  Especially  he 
wished  that  some  competent  person  would  keep  a  careful 
record  of  events  as  they  passed ;  "  for  we  are  making  our 
history,"  he  said,  "  hand  over  hand."  He  sat  quietly  in  the 
great  chair  while  he  spoke,  and  at  last  rose  to  go.  We 
went  together  to  the  door,  and  stood  for  a  little  while  upon 
the  piazza,  where  we  had  sat  peacefully  through  so  many 
golden  summer-hours.  The  last  hour  for  us  had  come,  but 
we  did  not  know  it.  We  shook  hands,  and  he  left  me, 
passing  rapidly  along  the  brook-side  under  the  trees,  and  so 
in  the  soft  spring  starlight  vanished  from  my  sight  forever. 

The  next  morning  came   the  President's   proclamation. 


14  BIOGRAPHICAL   SKETCH 

Winthrop  went  immediately  to  town  and  enrolled  himself 
in  the  artillery  corps  of  the  Seventh  Regiment.  During 
the  two  or  three  following  days  he  was  very  busy  and  very 
happy.  On  Friday  afternoon,  the  19th  of  April,  1861,  I 
stood  at  the  corner  of  Courtland  Street  and  saw  the  regi 
ment  as  it  marched  away.  Two  days  before,  I  had  seen 
the  Massachusetts  troops  going  down  the  same  street.  Dur 
ing  the  day  the  news  had  come  that  they  were  already 
engaged,  that  some  were  already  dead  in  Baltimore.  And 
the  Seventh,  as  they  went,  blessed  and  wept  over  by  a 
great  city,  went,  as  we  all  believed,  to  terrible  battle. 
The  setting  sun  in  a  clear  April  sky  shone  full  up  the  street. 
Mothers'  eyes  glistened  at  the  windows  upon  the  glistening 
bayonets  of  their  boys  below.  I  knew  that  Winthrop  and 
other  dear  friends  were  there,  but  I  did  not  see  them.  I 
saw  only  a  thousand  men  marching  like  one  hero.  The 
music  beat  and  rang  and  clashed  in  the  air.  Marching  to 
death  or  victory  or  defeat,  it  mattered  not.  They  marched 
for  Justice,  and  God  was  their  captain. 

From  that  moment  he  has  told  his  own  story  until  he 
went  to  Fortress  Monroe,  and  was  made  acting  military 
secretary  and  aid  by  General  Butler.  Before  he  went,  he 
wrote  the  most  copious  and  gayest  letters  from  the  camp. 
He  was  thoroughly  aroused,  and  all  his  powers  happily  at 
play.  In  a  letter  to  me  soon  after  his  arrival  in  Washing 
ton,  he  says : — 

"  I  see  no  present  end  to  this  business.  We  must  conquer 
the  South.  Afterward  we  must  be  prepared  to  do  its  police 
in  its  own  behalf,  and  in  behalf  of  its  black  population, 
whom  this  war  must,  without  precipitation,  emancipate. 
We  must  hold  the  South  as  the  metropolitan  police  holds 
New  York.  All  this  is  inevitable.  Now  I  wish  to  enroll 
myself  at  once  in  the  Police  of  the  Nation,  and  for  life,  if 
the  nation  will  take  me.  I  do  not  see  that  I  can  put  my- 


OF  THE  AUTHOR.  15 

self —  experience  and  character  —  to  any  more  useful  use. 
My  experience  in  this  short  campaign  with  the  Sev 
enth  assures  me  that  volunteers  are  for  one  purpose  and 
regular  soldiers  entirely  another.  We  want  regular  soldiers 
for  the  cause  of  order  in  these  anarchical  countries,  and  we 
want  men  in  command  who,  though  they  may  be  valuable 
as  temporary  satraps  or  proconsuls  to  make  liberty  possible 
where  it  is  now  impossible,  will  never  under  any  circum 
stances  be  disloyal  to  Liberty,  will  always  oppose  any  scheme 
of  any  one  to  constitute  a  military  government,  and  will  be 
ready,  when  the  time  comes,  to  imitate  Washington.  We 

must  think  of  these  things,  and  prepare  for  them 

Love  to  all  the  dear  friends This  trip  has  been  all 

a  lark  to  an  old  tramper  like  myself." 

Later  he  writes :  — 

"  It  is  the  loveliest  day  of  fullest  spring.  An  aspen  under 
the  window  whispers  to  me  in  a  chorus  of  all  its  leaves,  and 
when  I  look  out,  every  leaf  turns  a  sunbeam  at  me.  I  am 
writing  in  Viele's  quarters  in  the  villa  of  Somebody  Stone, 
upon  whose  place  or  farm  we  are  encamped.  The  man 
who  built  and  set  down  these  four  great  granite  pillars  in 
front  of  his  house,  for  a  carriage-porch,  had  an  eye  or  two 
for  a  fine  site.  This  seems  to  be  the  finest  possible  about 
Washington.  It  is  a  terrace  called  Meridian  Hill,  two  miles 
north  of  Pennsylvania  Avenue.  The  house  commands  the 
vista  of  the  Potomac,  all  the  plain  of  the  city,  and  a  charm 
ing  lawn  of  delicious  green,  with  oaks  of  first  dignity  just 
coming  into  leaf.  It  is  lovely  Nature,  and  the  spot  has 
snatched  a  grace  from  Art.  The  grounds  are  laid  out  after 
a  fashion,  and  planted  with  shrubbery.  The  snowballs  are 

at  their  snowballiest Have  you  heard  or — how 

many  times  have  you  used  the  simile  of  some  one,  Bad-muss 
or  Cadmus,  or  another  hero,  who  sowed  the  dragon's  teeth, 
and  they  came  up  dragoons  a  hundred-fold  and  infantry 


16  BIOGRAPHICAL   SKETCH 

a  thousand-fold  ?  Nit  admirari  is,  of  course,  my  frame  of 
mind;  but  I  own  astonishment  at  the  crop  of  soldiers. 
They  must  ripen  awhile,  perhaps,  before  they  are  to  be 
named  quite  soldiers.  Ripening  takes  care  of  itself;  and 
by  the  harvest-time  they  will  be  ready  to  cut  down. 

"  I  find  that  the  men  best  informed  about  the  South  do 
not  anticipate  much  severe  fighting.  Scott's  Fabian  policy 
will  demoralize  their  armies.  If  the  people  do  not  bother 
the  great  Cunctator  to  death  before  he  is  ready  to  move  to 
assured  victory,  he  will  make  defeat  impossible.  Meanwhile 
there  will  be  enough  outwork  going  on,  like  those  neat  jobs 
in  Missouri,  to  keep  us  all  interested Know,  O  com 
rade,  that  I  am  already  a  corporal,  —  an  acting  corporal, 
selected  by  our  commanding  officer  for  my  general  effect 
of  pipe-clay,  my  rapidity  of  heel  and  toe,  my  present  arms, 
etc.,  but  liable  to  be  ousted  by  suffrage  any  moment.  Quod 

faustum  sit, I  had  already  been  introduced  to  the 

Secretary  of  War I  called  at 's  and  saw,  with 

two  or  three  others, on  the  sofa.     Him  my  prophetic 

soul  named  my  uncle  Abe But  in  my  uncle's  house 

are  many  nephews,  and  whether  nepotism  or  my  transcen 
dent  merit  will  prevail  we  shall  see.  I  have  fun,  —  I  get 
experience,  —  I  see  much,  —  it  pays.  Ah,  yes  !  But  in 
these  fair  days  of  May  I  miss  my  Staten  Island.  War  stirs 
the  pulse,  but  it  wounds  a  little  all  the  time. 

"  Compliment  for  me  Tib  [a  little  dog]  and  the  Wisterias, 

—  also  the   mares  and  the   billiard-table.      Ask to 

give  you  t'  other  lump  of  sugar  in  my  behalf. Should 

—  return,  say  that  I  regret  not  being  present  with  an 
unpremeditated  compliment,  as  thus,  — '  Ah  !  the  first  rose 

of  summer ! ' I  will  try  to  get  an  enemy's  button  for 

,  should  the  enemy  attack.     If  the  Seventh  returns 

presently,  I  am  afraid  I  shall  be  obliged  to  return  with  them 
for  a  time.  But  I  mean  to  see  this  job  through,  somehow." 


OF   THE   AUTHOR.  17 

In  such  an  airy,  sportive  vein  he  wrote,  with  the  firm 
purpose  and  the  distinct  thought  visible  under  the  sparkle. 
Before  the  regiment  left  Washington,  as  he  has  recorded, 
he  said  good-by  and  went  down  the  bay  to  Fortress  Mon 
roe.  Of  his  unshrinking  and  sprightly  industry,  his  good 
head,  his  warm  heart,  and  cool  hand,  as  a  soldier,  General 
Butler  has  given  precious  testimony  to  his  family.  "  I  loved 
him  as  a  brother,"  the  General  writes  of  his  young  aid. 

The  last  days  of  his  life  at  Fortress  Monroe  were  doubt 
less  also  the  happiest.  His  energy  and  enthusiasm,  and 
kind,  winning  ways,  and  the  deep  satisfaction  of  feeling 
that  all  his  gifts  could  now  be  used  as  he  would  have  them, 
showed  him  and  his  friends  that  his  day  had  at  length 
dawned.  He  was  especially  interested  in  the  condition  and 
fate  of  the  slaves  who  escaped  from  the  neighboring  region 
and  sought  refuge  at  the  fort.  He  had  never  for  an  instant 
forgotten  the  secret  root  of  the  treason  which  was  desolating 
the  land  with  war ;  and  in  his  view  there  would  be  no  peace 
until  that  root  was  destroyed.  In  his  letters  written  from 
the  fort  he  suggests  plans  of  relief  and  comfort  for  the 
refugees ;  and  one  of  his  last  requests  was  to  a  lady  in  New 
York  for  clothes  for  these  poor  pensioners.  They  were 
promptly  sent,  but  reached  the  fort  too  late. 

As  I  look  over  these  last  letters,  which  gush  and  throb 
with  the  fulness  of  his  activity,  and  are  so  tenderly  streaked 
with  touches  of  constant  affection  and  remembrance,  yet 
are  so  calm  and  duly  mindful  of  every  detail,  I  do  not  think 
with  an  elder  friend,  in  whom  the  wisdom  of  years  has  only 
deepened  sympathy  for  all  generous  youthful  impulse,  of 
Virgil's  Marcellus,  "  Heu,  miserande  puer ! "  but  I  recall 
rather,  still  haunted  by  Philip  Sidney,  what  he  wrote,  just 
before  his  death,  to  his  father-in-law,  Walsingham,  —  "I 
think  a  wise  and  constant  man  ought  never  to  grieve  while 
he  doth  play,  as  a  man  may  say,  his  own  part  truly." 


18  BIOGRAPHICAL    SKETCH 

The  sketches  of  the  campaign  in  Virginia,  which  Winthrop 
had  commenced  in  the  Atlantic  Monthly  Magazine,  would 
have^  been  continued,  and  have  formed  an  invaluable  me 
moir  of  the  places,  the  men,  and  the  operations  of  which  he 
was  a  witness  and  a  part.  As  a  piece  of  vivid  pictorial 
description,  which  gives  the  spirit  as  well  as  the  spectacle, 
his  "Washington  as  a  Camp"  is  masterly.  He  knew  not 
only  what  to  see  and  to  describe,  but  what  to  think ;  so  that 
in  his  papers  you  are  not  at  the  mercy  of  a  multitudinous 
mass  of  facts,  but  understand  their  value  and  relation. 

The  disastrous  day  of  the  10th  of  June,  at  Great  Bethel, 
need  not  be  described  here.  It  is  already  written  with 
tears  and  vain  regrets  in  our  history.  It  is  useless  to  pro 
long  the  debate  as  to  where  the  blame  of  the  defeat,  if 
blame  there  were,  should  rest.  But  there  is  an  impression 
somewhat  prevalent  that  Winthrop  planned  the  expedition, 
which  is  incorrect.  As  military  secretary  of  the  command 
ing  general,  he  made  a  memorandum  of  the  outline  of  the 
plan  as  it  had  been  finally  settled.  Precisely  what  that 
memorandum  (which  has  been  published)  was,  he  explains 
in  the  last  letter  he  wrote,  a  few  hours  before  leaving  the 
fort.  He  says:  "If  I  come  back  safe,  I  will  send  you 
my  notes  of  the  plan  of  attack,  part  made  up  from  the 
General's  hints,  part  my  own  fancies."  This  defines 
exactly  his  responsibility.  His  position  as  aid  and  military 
secretary,  his  admirable  qualities  as  adviser  under  the  cir 
cumstances,  and  his  personal  friendship  for  the  General, 
brought  him  intimately  into  the  council  of  war.  He  em 
barked  in  the  plan  all  the  interest  of  a  brave  soldier  con 
templating  his  first  battle.  He  probably  made  suggestions 
some  of  which  were  adopted.  The  expedition  was  the 
first  move  from  Fort  Monroe,  to  which  the  country  had 
been  long  looking  in  expectation.  These  were  the  reasons 


OF  THE   AUTHOR.  19 

why  he  felt  so  peculiar  a  responsibility  for  its  success  ;  and 
after  the  melancholy  events  of  the  earlier  part  of  the  day, 
he  saw  that  its  fortunes  could  be  retrieved  only  by  a  dash 
of  heroic  enthusiasm.  Fired  himself,  he  sought  to  kindle 
others.  For  one  moment  that  brave,  inspiring  form  is 
plainly  visible  to  his  whole  country,  rapt  and  calm,  standing 
upon  the  log  nearest  the  enemy's  battery,  the  mark  of  their 
sharpshooters,  the  admiration  of  their  leaders,  waving  his 
sword,  cheering  his  fellow-soldiers  with  his  bugle  voice  of 
victory,  —  young,  brave,  beautiful,  for  one  moment  erect 
and  glowing  in  the  wild  whirl  of  battle,  the  next  falling 
forward  toward  the  foe,  dead,  but  triumphant. 

On  the  19th  of  April,  1861,  he  left  the  armory-door  of  the 
Seventh,  with  his  hand  upon  a  howitzer;  on  the  21st  of 
June  his  body  lay  upon  the  same  howitzer  at  the  same 
door,  wrapped  in  the  flag  for  which  he  gladly  died  as  the 
symbol  of  human  freedom.  And  so,  drawn  by  the  hands 
of  young  men  lately  strangers  to  him,  but  of  whose  bravery 
and  loyalty  he  had  been  the  laureate,  and  who  fitly  mourned 
him  who  had  honored  them,  with  long,  pealing  dirges  and 
muffled  drums,  he  moved  forward. 

Yet  such  was  the  electric  vitality  of  this  friend  of  ours, 
that  those  of  us  who  followed  him  could  only  think  of  him 
as  approving  the  funeral  pageant,  not  the  object  of  it,  but 
still  the  spectator  and  critic  of  every  scene  in  which  he  was 
a  part.  We  did  not  think  of  him  as  dead.  We  never  shall. 
In  the  moist,  warm  midsummer  morning,  he  was  alert,  alive, 
immortal. 


CECIL    DREE ME 


CHAPTER    I. 

STILLFLEET  AND  HIS  NEWS. 

HOME  ! 

The  Arago  landed  me  at  midnight  in  mid 
winter.  It  was  a  dreary  night.  I  drove  for 
lornly  to  my  hotel.  The  town  looked  mean  and 
foul.  The  first  omens  seemed  unkindly.  My 
spirits  sank  full  fathom  five  into  Despond. 

But  bed  on  shore  was  welcome  after  my  berth 
on  board  the  steamer.  I  was  glad  to  be  in  a 
room  that  did  not  lurch  or  wallow,  and  could 
hold  its  tongue.  I  could  sleep,  undisturbed  by 
moaning  and  creaking  woodwork,  forever  threat 
ening  wreck  in  dismal  refrain. 

It  was  late  next  morning  when  a  knock  awoke 
me.  I  did  not  say,  "Entrez,"  or  "Herein." 

Some  fellows  adopt  those  idioms  after  a  week 
in  Paris  or  a  day  in  Heidelberg,  and  then  apol 
ogize, —  "We  travellers  quite  lose  our  mother 
tongue,  you  know." 


22  CECIL  DKEEME. 

"  Come  in,"  said  I,  glad  to  use  the  vernac 
ular. 

A  Patrick  entered,  brandishing  a  clothes-broom 
as  if  it  were  a  shillalah  splintered  in  a  shindy. 

"  A  jontlemin  wants  to  see  yer  honor,"  said  he. 

A  gentleman  to  see  me !  Who  can  it  be  ?  I 
asked  myself.  Not  Densdeth  already !  No,  he 
is  probably  also  making  a  late  morning  of  it  after 
our  rough  voyage.  I  fear  I  should  think  it  a  lit 
tle  ominous  if  he  appeared  at  the  threshold  of  my 
home  life,  as  my  first  friend  in  America.  Bah ! 
Why  should  I  have  superstitions  about  Dens 
deth  ?  Our  intimacy  on  board  will  not  continue 
on  shore.  What 's  Hecuba  to  me,  or  I  to  Hecu 
ba?" 

"  A  jontlemin  to  see  yer  honor,"  repeated  the 
.Pat,  with  a  peremptory  flourish  of  his  weapon. 

"  What  name,  Patrick  ?  " 

"  I  misremember  the  name  of  him,  yer  honor. 
He 's  a  wide-awake  jontlemin,  with  three  mus- 
tasshes,  —  two  on  his  lip,  and  one  at  the  pint  of 
his  chin." 

Can  it  be  Harry  Stillfleet  ?  I  thought.  He 
cannot  help  being  wide-awake.  He  used  to  wear 
his  beard  a  la  three-moustache  mode.  His  ap 
pearance  as  my  first  friend  would  be  a  capital 
omen.  "  Show  him  up,  Pat !  "  said  I. 

"  He  shows  himself  up,"  said  a  frank,  electric 
voice.  "  Here  he  is,  wide-awake,  three  mous- 


CECIL  DREEME.  23 

taches,  first  friend,  capital  omen.  Hail  Colum 
bia  !  beat  the  drums  !  Robert  Byng,  old  boy, 
how  are  you  ?  " 

"  Harry  Stillfleet,  old  boy,  how  are  you  ?  " 

"  I  am  an  old  boy,  and  hope  you  are  so  too." 

"  I  trust  so.  It  is  the  best  thing  that  can  be 
said  of  a  full-grown  man." 

"  I  saw  your  name  on  the  hotel  book,"  Still- 
fleet  resumed.  "  Rushed  in  to  say,  4  How  d'  ye 
do  ?  '  and  <  Good-bye  ! '  I'm  off  to-day.  Any 
friends  out  in  the  Arago  ?  " 

"  No  friends.  A  few  acquaintances,  —  and 
Densdeth." 

"  Name  Densdeth  friend,  and  I  cut  you  bing- 
bang !  " 

"  What !  Densdeth,  the  cleverest  man  I  have 
ever  met  ?  " 

"  The  same." 

"  Densdeth,  handsome  as  Alcibiades,  or  per 
haps  I  should  say  Absalom,  as  he  is  Hebrew- 
ish  ?  " 

"  That  very  Alcibiades,  —  Absalom,  —  Dens 
deth." 

"  Densdeth,  the  brilliant,  the  accomplished, — 
who  fascinates  old  and  young,  who  has  been 
everywhere,  who  has  seen  everything,  who  knows 
the  world  de  profundis,  —  a  very  Midas  with  the 
gold  touch,  but  without  the  ass's  ears  ?  Dens 
deth,  the  potent  millioimaire  ?  " 


24  CECIL  DREEME. 

"  Yes,  Byng.  And  he  can  carry  a  great  many 
more  adjectives.  He  has  qualities  enough  to 
make  a  regiment  of  average  men.  But  my 
friends  must  be  built  of  other  stuff." 

"  So  must  mine,  to  tell  the  truth,  Harry.  But 
he  attracts  me  strangely.  His  sardonic  humor 
suits  one  side  of  my  nature." 

"  The  cynical  side  ?  " 

"  If  I  have  one.  The  voyage  would  have  been 
a  bore  without  him.  I  had  never  met  and  hardly 
heard  of  him  before  ;  but  we  became  intimate  at 
once.  He  has  shown  me  much  attention." 

"  No  doubt.  He  knows  men.  You  have  a 
good  name.  You  are  to  be  somebody  on  your 
own  account,  we  hope.  Besides,  Densdeth  was 
probably  aware  of  your  old  friendship  with  the 
Denmans." 

"  He  never  spoke  of  them." 

"  Naturally.   He  did  not  wish  to  talk  tragedy." 

"  Tragedy  !     What  do  you  mean  ?  " 

"  You  have  not  heard  the  story  of  Densdeth 
and  Clara  Denman  !  "  cried  Stillfleet,  in  surprise. 

"No.  Shut  up  in  Leipsic,  and  crowding  my 
studies  to  come  home,  I  have  not  heard  a  word 
of  New  York  gossip  for  six  months." 

"  This  is  graver  than  gossip,  Byng.  It  hap 
pened  less  than  three  months  ago.  Densdeth 
was  to  have  married  Clara  Denman." 

"  The  cynical  Densdeth  marry  that  strange 
child ! " 


CECIL  DREEME.  25 

"  You  forget  your  ten  years'  absence.  The 
strange  child  grew  up  a  noble  woman." 

"  Not  a  beauty,  —  that  I  cannot  conceive." 

"  No ;  but  a  genius.  Once  in  a  century  Na 
ture  sends  such  a  brave,  earnest,  tender,  indig 
nant  soul  on  this  low  earth.  All  the  men  of 
genius  were  in  love  with  her,  except  myself. 
But  Densdeth,  a  bad  genius,  seemed  to  have  won 
her.  The  wedding-day  was  fixed,  cards  out, 
great  festivities  ;  you  know  how  a  showy  man 
like  Denman  would  seize  the  occasion  for  splen 
dor.  One  night  she  disappeared  without  sign. 
Three  days  afterward  she  was  floated  upon  the 
beach  down  the  bay,  —  drowned,  poor  thing!" 

"  What !  "  cried  I,  "  Clara  Denman,  my  weird 
little  playmate  !  Dead  !  Drowned  !  I  did  not 
imagine  how  tenderly  I  had  remembered  her." 

"  I  was  not  her  lover,"  said  Harry,  "  only  a 
friend  ;  but  the  world  has  seemed  a  mean  and 
lonely  place  since  she  passed  away  so  cruelly." 

The  mercurial  fellow  was  evidently  greatly 
affected. 

"  She  had  that  fine  exaltation  of  nature," 
continued  he,  "  which  frightens  weak  people. 
They  said  her  wild,  passionate  moods  brought 
her  to  the  verge  of  madness." 

"A  Sibylline  soul." 

"Yes,  a  Sibyl  who  must  see  and  know  and 
suffer.  Her  friends  gave  out  that  she  had  ac- 
2 


26  CECIL   DREEME. 

tually  gone  mad  with  a  fever,  and  so,  while  her 
nurse  was  asleep,  she  stole  out,  erred  about  the 
city,  fell  into  the  river,  and  was  drowned." 

"  Not  suicide  !  " 

"  Never !  with  such  a  healthy  soul.  Yet  some 
people  do  not  hesitate  to  say  that  she  drowned 
herself  rather  than  be  forced  to  marry  Dens- 
deth." 

"  These  are  not  the  days  of  forced  marriages." 

"  Moral  pressure  is  more  despotic  than  physi 
cal  force.  I  fancy  our  old  friend  Churm  may 
think  there  was  tyranny  in  the  business,  though 
he  never  speaks  of  it.  You  know  he  was  a  sup 
plementary  father  and  guardian  of  those  ladies. 
He  was  absent  when  it  all  happened." 

"  And  the  Denmans,  —  how  do  they  seem  to 
bear  it  ? " 

"  Mr.  Denman  was  sadly  broken  at  first.  I 
used  to  meet  him,  walking  about,  leaning  feebly 
on  Densdeth's  arm,  looking  like  a  dead  man,  or 
one  just  off  the  rack.  But  he  is  proud  as  Luci 
fer.  He  soon  was  himself  again,  prouder  than 
before." 

"  And  Emma  Denman  ?  " 

"  I  have  had  but  one  glimpse  of  her  since  the 
younger  sister's  death.  Her  beauty  is  signally 
heightened  by  mourning." 

"  Such  a  tragedy  must  terribly  blight  her 
life.  Will  they  see  me,  do  you  think  ?  I 


CECIL  DREEME.  27 

should  like  to  offer  my  sympathy,  for  old  friend 
ship's  sake." 

"  As  an  old  friend,  they  will  see  you,  of  course. 
In  fact,  conspicuous  people,  like  the  Denmans, 
cannot  long  shelter  themselves  behind  a  sorrow. 
But  Some,  old  fellow,  I  have  been  talking  sol 
emnly  long  enough.  Tell  me  about  yourself. 
Come  home  ripe  ?  Wild  oats  sowed  ?  Ready 
to  give  us  a  lift  with  civilization  ?  " 

"  Ripe,  I  hope.  Not  raw,  as  I  went.  Nor 
rotten,  as  some  fellows  return.  Wild  oats  ?  I 
keep  a  few  handfuls  still  in  my  bag,  for  home 
sowing.  As  to  civilization ;  let  me  get  my  pou 
std  and  my  handspike  set,  and  I  will  heave  with 
a  will,  lift  or  no." 

"  Suppose  you  state  your  case  in  full,  as  if 
you  were  a  clown  in  the  ring,  or  a  hero  on  the 
stage." 

I  had  been  dressing  while  he  talked.  My 
toilette  was  nearly  done.  I  struck  an  attitude 
and  replied,  "  My  name  is  Robert  Byng,  '  as  I 
sailed.'  " 

"  Name  short,  and  with  a  good  crack  to  it ; 
man  long  and  not  whipper-snapper.  Name  dis 
tinguished  ;  bearer  capable.  State  your  age, 
Byng  the  aforesaid." 

"  Twenty-six." 

"  The  prisoner  confesses  to  twenty-six.  The 
judge  in  the  name  of  the  American  people  de- 


28  CECIL   DREEME. 

rnands,  *  Why  then  have  n't  you  been  five,  years 
at  the  bar,  or  ten  years  at  the  desk  ?  Why  are 
you  not  in  command  of  a  clipper  ship,  or  in 
Congress,  or  driving  an  omnibus,  or  clearing  a 
farm  ?  Where  is  your  door-plate  ?  Where  is 
your  wife  ?  What  school  does  your  eldest  son 
go  to  ?  Where  is  your  mark  on  the  nineteenth 
century  ?  '  " 

"  Bah,  Harry !  Don't  bore  me  with  your  Young 
Americanism !  I  know  it  is  not  sincere.  Let 
me  mature,  before  you  expect  a  man's  work 
of  me ! " 

"  The  culprit  desires  to  state,"  says  Stillfleet, 
as  if  he  were  addressing  an  audience,  "  that 
he  was  born  to  a  fortune  and  a  life  of  idle 
ness  and  imbecility,  that  he  would  gladly  be 
imbecile  and  idle  now,  like  nous  autres ;  but 
that  losing  his  parents  and  most  of  his  money 
at  an  unsophisticated  age,  while  in  Europe,  he 
consulted  the  Oracle  how  he  should  make  his 
living.  '  What  is  that  burn  on  your  thumb  ? ' 
asked  the  Oracle.  '  Phosphorus,'  replied  Master 
Bob.  '  How  came  that  hole  in  your  sleeve  ? ' 
Oracle  inquires.  'Nitric  acid,'  Byng  responds. 
6  It  was  the  cat  that  scratched  your  face  ? '  says 
Oracle.  '  No,'  answers  the  youth,  i  my  retort 
burst  before  it  was  half  full  of  gas.'  '  Phospho 
rus  on  your  thumb,'  Oracle  sums  up,  '  nitric 
acid  on  your  sleeve,  and  your  face  clawed  with 


CECIL  DREEME.  29 

gas  explosions,  —  there  is  only  one  thing  for  you 
to  do.  Be  a  chemist ! '  Which  he  became.  Is 
that  a  straight  story,  Byng?" 

"  Near  enough !  "  said  I,  laughing  at  my 
friend's  rattling  history  of  my  life. 

"And  here  he  is,  fellow-citizens,"  Stillfleet 
continued.  "  He  has  seen  the  world  and  had 
his  fling  in  Paris,  where  he  picked  up  a  little 
chemistry  and  this  half-cynical  manner  and 
half-sceptical  method,  which  you  remark.  He 
has  also  got  a  small  supply  of  science  and  an 
abundance  of  dreaminess  and  fatalism  in  Ger 
many.  But  he  is  a  fine  fellow,  with  a  good 
complexion,  not  dishonest  blue  eyes,  not  spoilt 
in  any  way,  and  if  America  punishes  him  prop 
erly,  and  puts  his  nose  severely  to  the  grind 
stone,  he  may  turn  out  respectable.  I  '11  offer 
you  three  to  two,  Byng,  the  Devil  don't  get 
you.  Speak  quick,  or  I  shall  want  to  bet  even." 

"  You  rascal !  "  said  I.  "I  would  go  at  you 
with  an  analysis  after  the  same  fashion,  if  I  were 
not  too  hungry.  Come  down  and  breakfast." 

"  Here  is  a  gentleman  from  Sybaris !  "  cried 
Stillfleet.  "  '  Come  and  breakfast ! '  says  he, 
lifting  himself  out  of  his  bed  of  rose-leaves  at 
mid-day.  Why,  man  !  I  breakfasted  three  hours 
ago.  I  've  been  up  to  the  Reservoir  and  down 
to  the  Exchange  and  over  to  Brooklyn  since. 
That  's  the  style  you  have  to  learn,  twenty  thou- 


30  CECIL  DREEME. 

sand  miles  an  hour,  hurrah  boys !  go  ahead ! 
'  En  avant,  marrche  ! '  '  Marrrrche  ! '  Yes  ;  I 
took  breakfast  three  hours  ago,  —  and  a  stout 
one,  —  to  fortify  me  for  the  toil  of  packing  to  go 
to  Washington.  But  I  '11  sit  by  and  check  your 
come-ashore  appetite." 


CHAPTER   II. 

CHRYSALIS  COLLEGE. 

STILLFLEET  escorted  me  down  to  the  long, 
desolate  dining-room  of  my  hotel,  the  Chuzzle- 
wit. 

The  great  Chuzzlewit  dined  there  on  his  visit 
to  America,  and  damned  his  dinner  with  such 
fine  irony,  that  the  proprietor  thought  himself 
complimented,  and  re-baptized  his  hotel. 

"  Here  you  are,"  said  my  friend,  "  at  a  crack 
house  on  the  American  plan.  You  can  break 
fast  on  fried  beefsteak,  hard  eggs,  cafe  au  delay, 
soggy  toast,  flannel  cakes,  blanket  cakes,  and 
wash-leather  cakes.  You  can  dine  on  mock 
soup,  boiled  porpoise,  beef  in  the  raw  or  in  the 
chip,  watery  vegetables,  quoit  pies,  and  can  have 
your  choice  at  two  dollars  a  bottle  of  twelve 
kinds  of  wine,  all  mixed  in  the  same  cellar,  and 
labelled  in  the  same  shop.  You  can  sup  on 
soused  tea,  dusty  sponge-cake,  and  Patrick  a 
discretion.  How  do  you  like  the  bill  of  fare  ?  " 

"  Marine  appetites  are  not  discriminating. 
But,  Harry,"  I  continued,  when  I  had  ordered 


32  CECIL   DREEME. 

my  breakfast,  "  you  spoke  of  going  to  Washing 
ton.  I  thought  only  raff  —  Congressmen,  con 
tractors,  and  tide-waiters  —  went  there." 

"  Civilization  makes  its  missionaries  acquainted 
with  strange  lodgings.  They  are  building  a  big 
abortion  of  a  new  Capitol.  I  go,  as  an  architect, 
to  expunge  a  little  of  the  Goth  and  the  Vandal 
out  of  their  sham-classic  plans." 

"  Beware  !  Reform  too  soon,  and  you  risk 
ostracism.  But  before  you  go,  advise  me. 
Where  am  I  to  live  ?  Evidently  not  here  at 
the  Chuzzlewit.  Here  the  prices  are  large,  and 
the  rooms  little.  I  must  have  a  den  of  my  own, 
where  I  can  swing  a  cat,  a  longish  cat." 

"  Why  not  take  my  place  off  my  hands  ?  It 
is  big  enough  to  swing  a  royal  Bengal  tiger  in. 
I  meant  to  lock  it  up,  but  you  shall  occupy  and 
enjoy,  if  you  like.  It's  a  grand  chance,  old 
fellow.  There  's  not  such  another  Rubbish  Pal 
ace  in  America." 

"  Excellent !  "  said  I.  "  But  will  you  trust 
me  with  your  plunder  ?  " 

"  Will  I  trust  you  ?  Have  n't  we  been  brats 
together,  lads  together,  men  together  ?  " 

"  We  have." 

"  Have  n't  we  been  comrades  in  robbing  or 
chards,  mobbing  tutors,  spoiling  the  Egyptians 
of  mummies,  pillaging  the  Tuileries  in  '48. 
Have  n't  we  been  the  historic  friends,  Demon 


CECIL  DREEME.  33 

and  Pythagoras,  —  no,  Damon  and  Pythias  ? 
Answer  me  that !  " 

"  We  have." 

"  Well,  then,  enter  my  shop,  studio,  palace, 
and  use  and  abuse  my  tools,  rubbish,  valuables, 
as  you  like.  Really,  Byng,  it  will  be  a  great 
favor  if  you  will  fill  my  quarters,  and  keep  down 
the  rats  with  my  rat  rifle,  while  I  am  in  Wash 
ington  trying  to  decorate  the  Representative 
Chamber  so  that  it  will  shame  blackguards  to 
silence." 

"  Now,"  said  I,  after  a  pause,  and  a  little  stern 
champing  over  a  tough  Chuzzlewit  chop,  "  all 
ready,  Harry;  conduct  me  to  your  den." 

We  left  the  Chuzzlewit  by  the  side  door  on 
Mannering  Place,  and  descended  from  Broadway 
as  far  as  Ailanthus  Square.  On  the  corner, 
fronting  that  mean,  shabby  enclosure,  Stillfleet 
pointed  out  a  huge  granite  or  rough  marble 
building. 

"  There  I  live,"  said  he.  "  It 9s  not  a  jail,  as 
you  might  suppose  from  its  grimmish  aspect. 
Not  an  Asylum.  Not  a  Retreat.  No  lunatics, 
that  I  know  of,  kept  there,  nor  anything  mys 
terious,  guilty,  or  out  of  the  way." 

"  Chrysalis  College,  is  it  not  ?  " 

"  You  have  not  forgotten  its  monastic  phiz  ?  " 

"  No  ;  I  remember  the  sham  convent,  sham 
castle,  modern-antique  affair.  But  how  do  you 


34  CECIL  DREEME. 

happen  to  be  quartered  there  ?  Is  the  College 
defunct  ?  " 

"  Not  defunct ;  only  without  vitality.  The 
Trustees  fancied  that,  if  they  built  roomy,  their 
college  would  be  populous  ;  if  they  built  marble, 
it  would  be  permanent ;  if  they  built  Gothic,  it 
would  be  scholastic  and  mediaeval  in  its  in 
fluences  ;  if  they  had  narrow,  mullioned  win 
dows,  not  too  much  disorganizing  modern  thought 
would  penetrate." 

"  Well,  and  what  was  the  result  ?  " 

"  The  result  is,  that  the  old  nickname  of 
Chrysalis  sticks  to  it,  and  whatever  real  name 
it  may  have  is  forgotten.  There  it  stands,  big, 
battlemented,  buttressed,  marble,  with  windows 
like  crenelles  ;  and  inside  they  keep  up  the  tra 
ditional  methods  of  education." 

"  But  pupils  don't  beleaguer  it  ?  " 

"  That  is  the  blunt  fact.  It  stays  an  in 
effectual  high-low  school.  The  halls  and  lecture- 
rooms  would  stand  vacant,  so  they  let  them  to 
lodgers." 

"  You  are  not  very  grateful  to  your  land 
lords." 

"  I  pay  my  rent,  and  have  a  right  to  criti 
cise." 

"  Who  live  there  besides  you  ?  " 

"  Several  artists,  a  brace  of  young  doctors, 
one  or  two  quiet  men  about  town,  Churm,  and 
myself." 


CECIL  DREEME.  35 

"  Clmrm  !  How  is  that  noble  old  fellow  ?  I 
count  upon  reclaiming  his  friendship." 

"  How  is  Churm  ?  Just  the  same.  Tranquil 
sage ;  headlong  boy.  An  aristocratic  radical. 
A  Timon  without  gall.  Says  the  wisest  things  ; 
does  the  kindest.  Knows  everything ;  and  yet 
is  always  ready  for  the  new  truth  that  nulli 
fies  the  old  facts.  He  cannot  work  inside  of  the 
institutions  of  society.  He  calls  them  '  shingle- 
cells.'  tight  and  transitory.  He  cannot  get  over 
his  cynical  way  of  putting  a  subject,  though 
there  is  no  cynic  in  his  heart.  So  the  world 
votes  him  odd,  and  lets  him  have  his  own  way." 

"  Lucky  to  get  liberty  at  cost  of  a  nickname ! 
Who  would  not  be  called  odd  to  be  left  free  ?  " 

"  If  Clmrm  were  poor,  he  would  be  howled  at 
as  a  radical,  a  destructive,  an  infidel." 

"  I  suppose  he  is  too  rich  and  powerful  to  be 
harmed,  and  too  intrepid  to  care." 

"  Yes  ;  and  then  there  is  something  in  Churm's 
vigor  that  disarms  opposition.  His  generosity 
hoists  people  up  to  his  level.  But  here  we  are, 
Byng,  at  the  grand  portal  of  the  grand  front." 

"  I  see  the  front  and  the  door.  Where  is  the 
grandeur  ?  " 

"  Don't  put  on  airs,  stranger !  We  call  this 
imposing,  magnifique,  in  short,  pretty  good.  Up 
goes  your  nose !  You  have  lived  too  long  in 
Florence.  Bruuelleschi  and  Giotto  have  spoilt 


36  CECIL   DREEME. 

you.  Well,  I  will  show  you  something  better 
inside.  Follow  me  !  " 

We  entered  the  edifice,  half  college,  half  lodg 
ing-house,  through  a  large  doorway,  under  a 
pointed  arch.  The  interior  was  singularly  ill- 
contrived.  A  lobby  opened  at  the  door,  com 
municating  with  a  dim  corridor  running  through 
the  middle  of  the  building,  parallel  to  the  front. 
A  fan-tracery  vaulting  of  plaster,  peeled  and 
crumbling,  ceiled  the  lobby.  A  marble  stairway, 
with  iron  hand-rails,  went  squarely  and  clumsily 
up  from  the  door,  nearly  filling  the  lobby. 

Stillfleet  led  the  way  up-stairs. 

He  pointed  to  the  fan-tracery. 

"  This  of  course  reminds  you  of  King's  College 
Chapel,"  said  he. 

"  Entirely,"  replied  I.  "  Pity  it  is  deciduous  !  " 
and  I  brushed  off  from  my  coat  several  flakes  of 
its  whitewash. 

The  stairs  landed  us  on  the  main  floor  of  the 
building.  Another  dimly  lighted  corridor,  an 
swering  to  the  one  below,  but  loftier,  ran  from 
end  to  end  of  the  building.  This  also  was  paved 
with  marble  tiles.  Large  Gothicish  doors  opened 
along  on  either  side.  The  middle  room  on  the 
rear  of  the  corridor  was  two  stories  high,  and 
served  as  chapel  and  lecture-room.  On  either 
side  of  this,  a  narrow  staircase  climbed  to  the 
upper  floors. 


CECIL  DREEME.  3T 

By  the  half-light  from  the  great  window  over 
the  doorway  where  we  had  entered,  arid  from  a 
small  single  mullioned  window  at  the  northern 
end  of  the  corridor,  there  was  a  bastard  medie 
valism  of  effect  in  Chrysalis,  rather  welcome  after 
the  bald  red-brick  houses  without. 

"  How  do  you  like  it  ?"  asked  Stillfleet.  "  It 's 
not  old  enough  to  be  romantic.  But  then  it  does 
not  smell  of  new  paint,  as  the  rest  of  America 
does." 

We  turned  up  the  echoing  corridor  toward  the 
north  window.  We  passed  a  side  staircase  and 
a  heavily  padlocked  door  on  the  right.  On  the 
left  was  a  class-room.  The  door  was  open.  We 
could  see  a  swarm  of  collegians  buzzing  for  such 
drops  of  the  honey  of  learning  as  they  could  get 
from  a  lank  plant  of  a  professor. 

We  stopped  at  the  farther  door  on  the  right, 
adjoining  the  one  so  carefully  padlocked.  It 
bore  my  friend's  plate, — 

H.  STILLFLEET, 

ARCHITECT. 


CHAPTER    III. 

RUBBISH  PALACE. 

STILLFLEET  drew  a  great  key,  aimed  at  the 
keyhole,  and  snapped  the  bolt,  all  with  a  myste 
rious  and  theatrical  air. 

"  Now,"  said  he,  "  how  is  your  pulse  ?  " 

"  Steady  and  full.     Why  should  n't  it  be  ?  " 

"  Shut  your  eyes,  then  !  Open  sesame  !  Eyes 
tight  ?  Enter  into  Rubbish  Palace  !  " 

He  led  me  several  steps  forward. 

"  Open  !  "  he  commanded. 

"  Where  am  I  ?  "  I  cried,  staring  about  in  sur 
prise. 

"  City  of  Manhattan,  corner  of  Mannering 
Place  and  Ailanthus  Square,  Chrysalis  College 
Buildings.". 

"  Harry,"  said  I,  "  this  is  magic,  phantasma 
goria.  Outside  was  the  nineteenth  century ; 
here  is  the  fifteenth.  When  I  shut  my  eyes,  I 
was  in  a  seedy  building  in  a  busy  modern  town  ; 
I  open  them,  and  here  I  am  in  the  Palazzo  Sfor- 
za  of  an  old  Italian  city,  in  the  great  chamber 
where  there  was  love  and  hate,  passion  and  de- 


CECIL  DREEME.  39 

spair,  revelry  and  poison,  long  before  Columbus 
cracked  the  egg." 

"It  is  rather  a  rum  old  place,"  said  Stillfleet, 
twisting  his  third  moustache,  and  enjoying  my 
surprise. 

"  Trot  out  your  Bengal  tiger.  Let  me  swing 
him,  and  measure  the  dimensions." 

"  Tiger  and  I  did  that  long  ago.  It  is  thirty 
feet  square  and  seventeen  high." 

"  Built  for  some  grand  college  purpose,  I  sup 
pose." 

"  As  a  hall,  I  believe,  for  the  dons  to  receive 
lions  on  great  occasions.  But  lions  and  great 
occasions  never  come.  So  I  have  inherited.  It 
is  the  old  story.  '  Sic  vos  non  vobis  cedificatis 
cedes.'  How  do  you  like  it  ?  Not  too  sombre, 
eh  ?  with  only  those  two  narrow  windows  open 
ing  north  ?  " 

"  Certainly  not  too  sombre.  I  don't  want  the 
remorseless  day  staring  in  upon  my  studies. 
How  do  I  like  it  ?  Enormously.  The  place  is 
a  romance." 

"  It  is  Dantesque,  Byronic,  Yictor  Hugoish." 

"  Yes,"  said  I,  looking  up.  "  I  shall  be  sure 
of  rich  old  morbid  fancies  under  this  ceiling,  with 
its  frescoed  arabesques,  faded  and  crumbling." 

"  You  have  a  taste  for  the  musty,  then,"  said 
Harry. 

"  Anything  is  better  than  the  raw.    The  Chuz- 


40  CECIL  DREEME. 

zlewit  has  given  me  enough  of  that.  Well,  Har 
ry,  your  den  is  my  den,  if  you  say  so." 

"  Yours  to  have  and  to  hold  while  I  am  gone, 
and  much  romance  may  you  find  here.  Let  me 
show  you  the  whole.  Here  's  my  bath-room, 
'  replete,'  as  the  advertisements  say,  '  with  every 
convenience.'  Here,  alongside,  is  my  bedroom." 

He  opened  doors  in  the  wall  opposite  the  win 
dows. 

"  A  gilded  bedstead  !  "  said  I. 

"  It  was  Marshal  Soult's,  bought  cheap  at  his 
sale." 

"  A  yellow  satin  coverlet !  " 

"  Louis  Philippe's.  Citizen  Sabots  stole  it  from 
the  Tuileries  in  '48  and  sold  it  to  me." 

"  But  what  is  this  dark  cavern,  next  the  bed 
room  ? "  I  asked.  "  Where  does  that  door  at 
the  back  open  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  that  is  my  trash  room.  Those  boxes 
contain  '  Raphaels,  Correggios,  and  stuff.'  I  was 
jockeyed  with  old  masters  once,  as  my  compatri 
ots  still  are.  I  don't  hang  them  up  and  post 
myself  for  a  greenhorn." 

"  But  that  door  at  the  back  ?  " 

"  What  are  you  afraid  of,  Byng  ?  " 

"  I  ask  for  information." 

"  Your  voice  certainly  trembled.  No  danger. 
Rachel  will  never  peer  through  and  hiss  '  Le 
flambeau  fume  encore,'9  No  Lady  Macbeth  will 


CECIL  DREEME.  41 

march  in,  wringing  her  hands  that  never  will  be 
clean." 

"  I  hope  not,  I  am  sure." 

"  It  is  clear  you  expect  it.  Your  tone  is 
ominous." 

"  Indeed.  A  Palazzo  Sforza  style  of  place 
inspires  Palazzo  Sforza  fancies,  perhaps.  But 
really,  Harry,  where  does  the  door  open  ?  " 

"  It  does  not  open,  and  probably  will  not  till 
doomsday.  It  is  bolted  solid  on  my  side,  what 
ever  it  be  on  the  other.  It  leads  to  a  dark 
room." 

"  A  dark  room  !  that  is  Otrantoish." 

"  A  windowless  room,  properly  an  appendage 
to  this.  But  there  is  another  door  on  the  corri 
dor.  You  may  have  noticed  it,  closed  with  a 
heavy  padlock.  The  tenant  enters  there,  and 
asks  no  right  of  way  of  me." 

"  The  tenant,  who  is  he  ?  I  should  know  my 
next  neighbor." 

"  You  know  him  already." 

"  Don't  play  with  my  curiosity.     Name." 

"  Densdetk." 

"  Densdetk,"  I  repeated,  aware  of  a  slight  un 
easiness.  "  What  use  has  he  for  a  dark  room  ? 
—  here,  too,  in  this  public  privacy  of  Chrysalis?  " 

"  The  publicity  makes  privacy.  Densdetk  says 
it  is  kis  store-room  for  books  and  furniture." 

"  Well,  wky  not  ?     You  speak  incredulously." 


42  CECIL  DREEME. 

"Because  there  is  a  faint  suspicion  that  he 
lies.  The  last  janitor,  an  ex-servant  of  Dens- 
deth's,  is  dead.  None  now  is  allowed  to  enter 
there  except  the  owner's  own  man,  a  horrid 
black  creature.  He  opens  the  door  cautiously, 
and  a  curtain  appears.  He  closes  the  door  be 
fore  he  lifts  it.  Densdeth  may  pestle  poisons, 
grind  stilettos,  sweat  eagles,  revel  by  gas-light 
there.  What  do  I  know  ?  " 

"  You  are  not  inquisitive,  then,  in  Chrysalis." 

"No.  We  have  no  concierge  by  the  street- 
door  to  spy  ourselves  or  our  visitors.  We  can 
live  here  in  completer  privacy  than  anywhere  in 
Christendom.  Daggeroni,  De  Bogus,  or  Made 
moiselle  des  Mollets  might  rendezvous  with  my 
neighbor,  and  I  never  be  the  wiser." 

"  Well,  if  Densdeth  is  well  bolted  out  of  my 
quarters,  I  will  not  pry  into  his.  And  now  1 11 
look  about  a  little  at  your  treasures." 

"  Do  ;  while  I  finish  packing.  I  cannot  quite 
decide  about  taking  clean  shirts  to  Washington. 
In  a  clean  shirt  I  might  abash  a  Senator." 

"  Abash  without  mercy !  the  country  will  thank 
you,"  said  I.  "  But,  old  fellow,  what  a  wealth 
of  art,  virtu,  and  rococo  you  have  here  !  " 

"  I  have  sampled  all  the  ages  of  the  world.  No 
era  has  any  right  to  complain  of  neglect,"  says 
Stillfleet,  patronizingly.  "  You  will  find  speci 
mens  of  the  arts  from  Tubal  Cain's  time  down. 


CECIL  DREEME.  43 

One  does  not  prowl  about  Europe  ten  years  with 
out  making  a  fair  bag  of  plunder.  How  old 
Churm  enjoys  my  old  books,  old  plates,  and  old 
objets!" 

"  I  hope  he  will  not  desert  the  place  when  its 
proper  master  is  gone.  Where  are  his  quarters 
in  Chrysalis  ?  " 

"  Story  above,  southwest  corner,  with  an  eye 
to  the  sunset.  Odd  fellow  he  is  !  He  lurks  here 
in  a  little  hermit  cell,  when  he  might  live  in  a 
gold  house  with  diamond  window-panes." 

"  Is  he  so  rich  ?  " 

"  Croesus  was  a  barefooted  pauper  to  him." 

"  Not  a  miser,  —  that  I  know." 

"  No  ;  he  spends  as  a  prairie  gives  crops.  But 
always  for  others.  He  would  be  too  lavish,  if 
he  were  not  discretion  itself.  Only  his  personal 
habits  are  ascetic." 

"  Perhaps  he  once  had  to  harden  himself  stern 
ly  against  a  sorrow,  and  so  asceticism  grew  a 
habit." 

"  Perhaps.  He  is  a  lonely  man.  Well,  here 
I  am,  packed,  abashing  shirts  and  all !  Come 
down  now.  I  must  exhibit  you,  as  my  successor, 
to  Locksley,  the  janitor  of  Chrysalis,  —  and  a 
capital  good  fellow  he  is." 


CHAPTER    IY. 

THE  PALACE  AND  ITS  NEIGHBORS. 

STILLFLEET  and  I  passed  out  into  the  chilly 
marble-paved  corridor. 

The  young  Chrysalids  in  the  class-room  seemed 
to  be  in  high  revolt.  They  were  mobbing  their 
lank  professor.  We  could  see  the  confusion 
through  the  open  door. 

"  He  takes  it  meekly,  you  see,"  said  Stillfleet. 
"  He  knows  that  the  hullabaloo  is  n't  half  pun 
ishment  enough  for  his  share  hi  the  fiction  of  call 
ing  the  place  a  college." 

We  descended  the  main  stairway.  The  white 
washed  fan-tracery  snowed  its  little  souvenir  on 
us  as  we  passed.  On  the  ground  floor,  a  few 
steps  along  the  damp  corridor,  was  the  door 
marked  "  Janitor." 

Stillfleet  pulled  the  bell.  A  cheerful,  hand 
some,  housewifely  woman  opened. 

"  Can  we  come  in,  Mrs.  Locksley  ?  "  said  my 
friend. 

"  You  are  always  welcome,  Mr.  Stillfleet." 

We  entered  a  compact  little  snuggery.     There 


CECIL   DREEME.  45 

was  something  infinitely  honest  and  trusty  in  the 
effect  and  atmosphere  of  the  place. 

Three  junior  Locksleys  caught  sight  of  Still- 
fleet.  They  rushed  at  him,  with  shouts  and  gam 
bols  enough  for  a  dozen. 

I  love  to  see  children  kitten  it  securely  about 
a  young  man.  They  know  friends  and  foes  with 
out  paying  battles  and  wounds  for  the  knowledge. 
They  seem  to  divine  a  sour  heart,  a  stale  heart, 
or  a  rotten  heart,  by  unerring  instinct.  If  a  man 
is  base  metal,  he  may  pass  current  with  the  old 
counterfeits  like  himself ;  children  will  not  touch 
him. 

"  The  world  has  smoked  and  salted  me,"  said 
Stillfleet,  "  and  tried  to  cure  me  hard  as  an  old 
ham.  But  there  is  a  fresh  spot  inside  me,  Byng, 
and  juveniles  always  find  it.  I  Ve  come  to  say 
good-bye,  children,"  he  continued  ;  "  but  here  's 
Mr.  Bob  Byng,  he  '11  take  my  place.  His  head 
is  full  of  fairy  stories  for  Dora.  His  fingers  make 
windmills  and  pop-guns  almost  without  knowing 
it.  Think  of  that,  Hall !  " 

Dora,  a  pretty  damsel  of  twelve,  and  Hall,  a 
ten-year-old  male  and  sturdy,  inspected  me  crit 
ically.  Was  I  bogus  ?  Their  looks  said,  they 
thought  not. 

"  As  for  Key  Locksley  here,"  said  Harry,  "  all 
he  wants  is  romp  and  sugar-plums.  This  is  Mr. 
Byng,  Key.  '  Some  in  his  pocket  and  some  in 


46  CECIL  DREEME. 

his  sleeve,  he  's  made  of  sugar-plums  I  do  be 
lieve.'  " 

So  Master  Key,  a  toddler,  accepted  me  as  his 
Lord  Chief  Confectioner. 

"  Now,  children,"  said  Stillfleet,  with  mock 
gravity,  "  be  Mr.  Byng's  monitors.  Require 
him  to  set  you  a  good  example.  Tell  him  young 
men  generally  go  to  the  bad  without  children  to 
watch  over  them." 

"  Many  a  true  word  is  spoken  in  jest,"  said 
Mrs.  Locksley. 

"  But  where  is  your  husband  ?  "  my  friend 
asked.  "  I  must  exhibit  his  new  tenant  to  him." 

"  Coming,  sir ! "  said  a  voice  from  the  bedroom 
adjoining. 

I  had  heard  a  rustling  and  crackling  there,  as 
if  some  one  was  splitting  his  way  into  a  starchy 
clean  shirt. 

At  the  word,  out  came  Locksley,  a  bristly 
little  man.  His  hair  and  beard  were  so  stiff 
that  I  fancied  at  once  he  could  discharge  a 
volley  of  hairs,  as  a  porcupine  shoots  quills  at 
a  foe.  This  bristliness  and  a  pair  of  keen  black 
eyes  gave  him  a  sharp,  alert,  and  warlike  look,  as 
if  he  were  quick  to  take  alarm,  but  not  likely 
to  be  frightened.  No  danger  of  the  hobblede 
hoys  of  Chrysalis,  the  College,  riding  roughshod 
over  such  a  janitor. 

I  detected  him  as  a  man  who  had  seen  better 


CECIL   DREEME.  47 

days,  and  hoped  to  see  them  again,  by  his  shirt- 
collars.  They  were  stiff  as  Calvinism  and  white 
as  Spitzbergen.  Such  collars  are  the  badge  of 
men  who,  though  low  in  the  pocket,  are  not  down 
in  the  mouth.  So  long  as  there  is  starch  in  the 
shirt,  no  matter  how  little  nap  the  coat  wears ; 
but  limp  linen  betokens  a  desponding  spirit,  and 
presently  there  will  be  no  linen  and  despair. 

"  Locksley,"  said  Stillfleet,  in  his  rattling, 
Frenchy  way,  "  here  's  my  friend  Byng,  Rob 
ert  Byng,  Esquire,  of  Everywhere  and  Nowhere. 
I  pop  out  and  he  pops  in  to  Rubbish  Palace. 
He  's  been  a  half-century  in  Europe  and  knows 
no  more  of  America  than  the  babe  unborn.  Pro 
tect  his  innocence  in  this  strange  city.  Save 
him  from  Peter  Funk.  Don't  let  him  stay  out 
after  curfew.  He  must  not  make  any  low  ac 
quaintances  in  Chrysalis.  He  has  a  pet  animal, 
the  Orgie,  picked  up  in  Paris,  very  noisy  and 
bites  ;  don't  allow  him  to  bring  it  into  these 
quiet  cloisters.  Well,  I  trust  him  to  you  and 
Mrs.  Locksley.  I  'm  off  for  Washington.  Good 
by,  all !  » 

He  shook  hands  with  janitor  and  janitress, 
kissed  Dora,  tweaked  the  boys,  and  fled  riotously. 

I  saw  him  and  his  traps  into  a  carriage  and 
off,  —  off  and  out  of  the  era  of  my  life  which 
I  describe  in  these  pages.  With  him  I  fear  the 
merry  element  disappears  from  a  sombre  story. 


48  CECIL   DREEME. 

I  perceived  what  a  lonely  fellow  I  was,  as 
soon  as  I  lost  sight  of  Stillfleet. 

"  Every  man  has  his  friends,  if  he  can  only 
find  them,"  I  said  to  myself.  "  But  here  I  am, 
a  returned  absentee,  and  not  a  soul  knows  me, 
except  Densdeth.  Exit  Harry  Stillfleet ;  manet 
Derisdeth.  I  believe  I  will  look  him  up.  Why 
should  I  make  a  bete  noir  of  such  an  agreeable 
fellow  ?  He  won't  bite.  He  's  no  worse  than 
half  the  men  I  've  known.  But  first  I  must 
transfer  myself  bag  and  baggage  to  Chrysalis." 

The  Chuzzlewit  unwillingly  disgorged  me  and 
my  traps,  after  so  short  a  period  of  feeding  upon 
us.  The  waiter,  specially  detailed  to  keep  me 
waiting  if  my  bell  rang,  handled  his  clothes- 
broom,  when  he  saw  me  depart,  as  if  he  would 
like  to  knock  me  down,  lock  me  up,  and  make 
me  pay  a  princely  ransom  for  my  liberty. 

I  escaped,  however,  without  a  skirmish  or  the 
aid  of  a  policeman,  and  presently  made  my  for 
mal  entry  into  Rubbish  Palace. 

"  Great  luck  !  "  thought  I,  beginning  to  un 
pack  and  arrange,  "  to  find  myself  at  home  the 
first  day." 

"  Dreadful  bore,  to  beat  through  this  great 
city  on  a  house-hunt !  " 

I  picked  up  a  newspaper  on  Stillfleet's  table, 
and  read  the  advertisements. 

"  Lodgings  for  a  single  gentleman  of  pious 
habits." 


CECIL  DREEME.  49 

"  Fine  suite  of  apartments  to  let.  N.  B.  Dods- 
ley's  Band  practises  next  door,  and  can  be  heard 
free  of  expense,  at  all  hours  of  day  or  night." 

"  Parlor  and  bedroom  over  Dr.  Toothaker's 
office  in  Bond  Street.  Murderers,  Coroners, 
Banjoists,  and  District  Attorneys  need  not  ap- 
ply." 

I  was  glad  to  have  escaped  inquiring  into  such 
places,  and  to  tumble  into  luxury  at  once. 

And  comfort  ?  I  asked  myself.  How  as  to 
comfort  ? 

My  new  quarters  were  almost  too  grandiose  for 
comfort.  That  simple  emotion  was  hardly  suffi 
ciently  ambitious  for  an  apartment  big  enough  to 
swing  a  tiger,  fifteen  feet  from  tip  to  tip,  in. 
There  was  no  chimney,  and  therefore  none  of 
the  domestic  cheerfulness  of  an  open  fire.  But 
an  open  fire  would  have  interfered  with  the 
Italian  aspect  of  the  chamber.  To  keep  the 
temperature  up  to  Italy,  I  had  a  mighty  stove, 
a  great  architectural  pile  of  cast-iron,  elaborate 
as  if  Prometheus  had  been  a  medieval  saint,  and 
this  were  his  shrine. 

I  looked  about  my  great  room,  and  it  seemed 
to  me  more  and  more  as  if  I  were  tenanting  the 
museum  of  some  old  virtuoso  Tuscan  marquis, 
the  last  habitable  chamber  of  his  palazzo,  the 
treasury  where  he  had  huddled  all  the  heir 
looms  of  the  race  since  they  were  Counts  of 

3  D 


50  CECIL   DREEME. 

Etruria,  long  before  Romulus  cubbed  it  with 
wolves  and  Remus  scorned  earth-works. 

It  is  idle  to  say  that  the  scenery  about  a  man's 
life  does  not  affect  his  character.  It  does  so  just 
in  proportion  to  his  sensitiveness.  A  clown,  of 
course,  might  inhabit  the  Palace  of  Art,  with  the 
Garden  of  Eve  in  front  and  the  Garden  of  Ar- 
mida  behind,  and  still  never  have  any  but  clown 
ish  thoughts  in  his  clown's  noddle. 

Whatever  else  I  was,  I  was  certainly  not  a 
clown.  My  being  was  susceptible  to  every  touch 
and  every  breath  of  influence.  My  new  home 
and  its  scenery  took  nie  at  once  in  hand,  and 
began  to  string  me  to  harmony  with  itself.  I 
fell  into  a  spiritual  mood  befitting  the  place. 

A  romantic  place.  ' 

And  Stillfleet's  collection  heightened  the  ro 
mantic  effect.  Stillfleet  was  a  fellow  of  the  prac 
tical  and  artistic  natures  well  combined,  with  a 
bizarre  slash,  a  bend  dexter  of  oddity  running 
through  him.  Fact,  beauty,  and  fun  were  all 
represented  in  his  museum. 

He  had,  as  he  said,  sampled  all  the  ages.  The 
ages  when  beings  were  brutes,  and  did  nothing 
but  feed  and  drink  and  fight  and  frisk  and  die, 
leaving  no  sign  but  an  unwieldy  skeleton,  were 
represented  in  this  Congress  by  a  great  thigh 
bone,  which  a  shambling  mammoth  had  spent  his 
days  in  exaggerating. 


CECIL  DEEEME.  51 

The  fossil  stood  to  symbolize  the  first  kick  of 
animal  life  against  chaos.  From  that  beginning 
the  series  went  on  rapidly.  The  times  when  Art 
put  its  fancies  into  amorphous,  into  grotesque, 
into  clumsy  forms,  had  all  contributed  some  typ 
ical  object. 

Then  of  things  of  beauty,  joys  forever,  there 
was  abundance.  There  were  models  of  the  most 
mythological  temples,  and  the  most  Christian 
spires  and  towers.  There  were  prints  and  pic 
tures,  old  and  young.  There  were  curiosities  in 
iron  and  steel,  in  enamel  and  ivory,  in  glass  and 
gem,  in  armor  and  weapons. 

I  will  not  attempt  at  present  to  catalogue  this 
museum,  or  give  any  distinct  impression  of  it. 
On  that  first  afternoon  I  did  not  pause  to  an 
alyze.  I  should  have  plenty  of  time  in  future, 
and  now  I  had  my  own  traps  to  arrange.  That 
must  be  done  systematically,  so  that  I  should  be 
a  settled  man  from  the  start. 

I  felt,  however,  as  I  proceeded  with  my  un 
packing  and  bestowing,  a  fine  sense  of  order  in 
the  apparent  whimsical  disorder  of  the  objects 
about  me.  The  pictures  had  not  alighted  on  the 
walls  merely  at  the  first  convenient  perch.  There 
was  method  in  all  the  contrasts  and  confusions  of 
the  place. 

That  modern  French  picture,  for  example,  of 
masquers  —  a  painting  all  vigor,  all  abandon,  all 


52  CECIL  DREEME. 

unterrified  and  riotous  color  —  had  not  without 
spiritual,  as  well  as  artistic  significance,  ranged 
itself  beside  a  scene  of  a  meagre  Franciscan  in  a 
cavern,  contemplating  a  scourge,  a  cup,  and  a 
crust.  There  was  propriety  in  setting  a  cast  of 
the  Venus  of  Milo  in  a  corner  with  the  armor  of 
a  knight  and  the  pike  of  a  Puritan. 

As  I  went  on  putting  my  chattels  to  rights  and 
making  myself  at  home  in  a  methodic  way,  the 
atmosphere  of  the  spot  more  and  more  affected 
me.  I  am  careful  in  stating  this  dreamy  influ 
ence.  A  certain  romantic  feeling  of  expectation 
took  possession  of  me.  I  had  no  definite  life  be 
fore  me.  I  was  passive,  and  awaiting  events.  A 
man  at  work  resists  emanations  and  miasms ;  a 
man  at  rest  is  infected. 

I  looked  about  the  room.  Everything  in  it 
seemed  watching  me.  I  fancied  that  the  ancient 
objects  were  weary  of  being  regarded  as  dead  cu 
riosities,  as  fossils.  They  seemed  to  reclaim  their 
former  semi-animation,  to  desire  to  be  the  prop 
erties  of  an  actual  drama,  to  long  to  sympathize 
with  joy  and  sorrow,  as  they  had  dumbly  sympa 
thized  long  ago. 

I  felt  myself  becoming  a  dramatic  personage, 
but  with  no  rdle  yet  assigned. 

"Here  is  the  stage,"  I  thought.  "  Here  is  the 
scenery.  Here  is  such  a  hall  as  conspirators, 
when  there  were  conspirators,  would  have  held 


CECIL   DREEME.  53 

tryst  in.  But  the  vindictive  centuries  are  dead 
and  gone.  There  is  no  Yehm  to  sit  here  in  som 
bre  judgment.  And  if  there  were  a  Vehm,  the 
age  of  crime  is  over.  I  dare  say  I  shall  lead  a 
commonplace  life  enough  here,  —  study,  smoke, 
sleep,  just  as  if  the  room  were  not  thirty  feet 
square,  dimly  lighted  with  mullioned  windows, 
and  hung  with  pictures  grim  with  three  centuries 
of  silent  monitorship. 

"  Lucky  that  I  'm  not  superstitious ! "  my 
thought  continued.  "  I  never  shall  peer  behind 
the  bed  for  ghosts,  or  for  fiends  into  the  coal-bin. 
A  superstitious  man  might  well  be  uneasy  here. 
If  I  wanted  to  give  a  timid  fellow  the  horrors,  I 
would  shut  him  up  in  this  very  room  for  a  single 
night  without  light  and  without  cigars.  I  don't 
believe  a  guilty  man  could  stand  it  at  all.  If 
one  had  fathered  villain  purposes,  those  bastards 
of  the  soul's  begetting  would  be  sure  to  return 
and  plague  their  parent  in  these  lodgings.  No, 
a  guilty  man  could  never  live  here  a  day. 

"  Densdeth,  now,  —  how  would  he  like  to  be 
quartered  in  Rubbish  Palace  ?  I  forget  that  he 
does  occupy  the  next  room.  By  the  way,  I  will 
see  whether  the  door  to  his  dark  room  is  fast  on 
my  side." 

I  crowded  between  the  piles  of  packing-cases 
in  Stillfleet's  lumber-closet  to  examine.  Unless 
Densdeth  were  a  spirit,  and  could  squeeze  through 


54  CECIL   DREEME. 

a  keyhole,  I  was  safe  from  a  visit  by  that  en 
trance.  Stillfleet  had  screwed  on  this  door  a 
grand  piece  of  ancient  ironmongery,  a  bolt  big 
enough  to  hold  the  gate  of  a  condemned  cell. 

As  I  stooped  to  admire  the  workmanship  of 
the  old  bolt,  I  was  aware  of  the  faint  fragrance 
of  a  subtle  and  luxurious  perfume.  Stillfieet's 
boxes  were  musty  enough.  The  scent  was  only 
perceptible  at  the  door.  It  must  come  from  the 
other  side. 

"  Odor  of  boudoir,  not  store-room,"  I  thought. 
"  But  perhaps  he  keeps  a  box  of  some  precious 
nard  stored  here,  and  it  has  sprung  a  leak. 
Never  mind,  Mr.  Byng  ;  keep  your  nose  for  your 
own  Cologne-bottle.  Boudoir  or  magazine,  re 
member  it  is  Densdeth's,  a  man  you  mistrust." 

I  shut  the  closet-door,  left  the  coffins  of  Still- 
fleet's  Old  Masters  in  their  da,rk  vault,  and  re 
turned  to  my  work. 

In  another  half-hour  all  my  traps  had  found 
their  places.  Everything,  from  boots  to  Bible, 
was  where  it  would  come  to  hand  at  need.  I 
laid  my  matches  so  that  I  need  not  grope  about 
in  the  formidable  dimness  of  my  chamber  when  I 
entered  at  night. 

It  was  five  o'clock.  I  felt  a  great  want  of  so 
ciety,  and  an  imperative  appetite  for  dinner. 

"  Why  not  venture,"  I  asked  myself,  "  to 
knock  at  Mr.  Churm's  door  up-stairs  ?  Perhaps 


CECIL   DREEME.  55 

he  will  dine  with  me  at  the  Chuzzlewit,  or  show 
ine  a  better  place.  He  will  not  think  me  imper 
tinent,  I  am  sure,  in  making  myself  known  anew 
to  him." 

I  took  the  nearest  staircase  for  the  floor  above, 
expecting  to  find  there  another  corridor  running 
the  whole  length  of  the  building,  as  below.  A 
locked  door,  however,  at  the  left  of  the  landing 
obstructed  my  passage  towards  Churm's  side  of 
Chrysalis.  At  the  right  also  was  a  door,  cutting 
off  that  portion  of  the  corridor.  It  stood  ajar. 

As  I  was  turning  to  descend,  and  find  my  way 
by  the  other  staircase  to  Churm's  lodgings,  the 
question  occurred  to  me,  "  Have  I  a  neighbor 
overhead  ?  Densdeth  beside  me,  —  who  is  above  ? 
By  what  name  shah1  I  chide  him,  if  in  dancing 
his  breakdowns  he  comes  crashing  through  the 
centre-piece  of  my  ceiling  ?  I  should  be  glad  to 
have  a  fine  fellow  close  at  hand  to  serve  me  as  a 
counterblast  to  Densdeth.  I  must  have  friends, 
and  if  I  can  find  one  in  my  neighbor,  so  much 
the  better." 

I  pushed  open  the  door,  and  entered  the  little 
hall ;  it  was  lighted,  as  below,  by  a  narrow  mul- 
lioned  window,  —  only  half-lighted  at  that  hour 
of  a  winter's  afternoon. 

A  lonely,  dismal  place.  The  ceiling,  instead 
of  showing  a  tidy  baldness  under  recent  comb 
ings  by  a  housemaid's  broom,  was  all  hairy  with 


56  CECIL  DEEEME. 

cobwebs.  I  was  surprised  that  no  spider  had 
slung  himself  across  the  doorway,  making  the 
lobby  a  cave  of  Adullam. 

There  were  two  doors  on  the  right.  Each  was 
labelled  "  To  Let."  The  light  was  so  faint  by 
this  time  that  I  was  obliged  to  approach  close  to 
satisfy  myself  that  "To  Let"  was  not  the  name 
of  a  tenant. 

On  the  left  the  same  unprofitable  nonentity 
occupied  the  room  over  Densdeth's.  The  fourth 
door,  corresponding  to  my  own,  remained.  I 
inspected  that  in  turn. 

An  ordinary  visiting-card  was  tacked  to  the 
door.  It  bore  a  name  neatly  printed  by  hand. 

I  deciphered  it  with  difficulty  by  the  twilight 
through  the  grimy  window  :  — 

CECIL  DREEME, 

PAINTER. 

A  modest  little  door-plate.  Its  shyness  inter 
ested  me  at  once.  Some  men  force  their  name 
and  business  on  the  world's  eye,  as  the  vulgar 
and  pushing  announce  their  presence  by  a  loud 
voice  and  large  manner.  A  person  of  conscious 
power  will  let  his  works  speak  for  him.  Take 
care  of  the  work,  and  the  name  will  take  care  of 
itself. 

"  Mr.  Cecil  Dreeme,"  I  said  to  myself,  "  is 
some  confident  genius,  willing  to  have  his  name 


CECIL   DREEME.  57 

remain  in  diminutive  letters  on  a  visiting-card 
until  the  world  writes  it  in  big  capitals  in  Val 
halla.  Here  he  lurks  and  works,  '  like  some 
poet  hidden  in  the  realm  of  thought.'  By  and 
by  a  great  picture  will  walk  out  through  this 
cobwebby  corridor. 

"  Cecil  Dreeme,"  I  repeated.  "  My  neighbor 
overhead  has  a  most  musical,  most  artistic  name. 
Dreeme,  —  yes  ;  the  sound,  if  not  the  spelling, 
fits  perfectly.  A  painter's  life,  if  common  theo 
ries  be  true,  should  be  all  a  dream.  Visions  of 
Paradises  and  Peris  should  always  be  with  him. 
No  vulgar,  harsh,  or  cruel  realities  should  shat 
ter  his  placid  repose.  Cecil,  too,  —  how  fortu 
nate  that  those  liquid  syllables  were  sprinkled 
upon  him  by  the  surplice  at  the  font.  Tom  or 
Sam  or  Peter  would  have  been  an  unpardonable 
discord." 

Cecil  Dreeme !  The  melodious  vagueness  of 
the  name  gently  attracted  me.  It  was  to  mine 
what  the  note  of  a  flute  is  to  the  crack  of  a 
rifle. 

Cecil  Dreeme  —  Robert  Byng. 

"  There  is  a  contrast  to  begin  with,"  I  thought. 
"  Our  professions,  too,  are  antagonistic.  Chem 
istry  —  Art.  Formulas  —  Inspirations.  Anal 
ysis  —  Combination.  I  work  with  matter  ;  he 
with  spirit.  I  unmake ;  he  makes.  I  split 
atoms,  unravel  gases  ;  he  grafts  lovely  image 

3* 


58  CECIL   DREEME. 

upon  lovely  image,  and  weaves  a  thousand  gos 
samers  of  beauty  into  one  transcendent  fabric." 

As  these  fancies  ran  through  my  brain,  I  be 
gan  to  develop  a  lively  curiosity  in  my  neighbor 
overhead. 

Remember  that  I  was  a  ten  years'  absentee, 
without  relatives,  without  sure  friends,  wanting 
society,  and  just  now  a  thought  romanticized  by 
the  air  and  scenery  of  Rubbish  Palace. 

I  began  to  long  to  be  acquainted  with  this 
gentleman  above  me,  this  possible  counterblast 
to  Densdeth,  this  possible  apparition  through  my 
ceiling  at  the  heel  of  a  breakdown. 

"  Does  he,  then,  dance  breakdowns  ?  "  I  thought. 
"  Is  he  perhaps  a  painter  of  the  frowzy  class, 
with  a  velvet  coat,  mop  of  hair  and  mile  of 
beard,  pendulous  pipe  and  a  figurante  on  the 
bowl,  and  with  a  Diisseldorf,  not  to  say  Bohe 
mian,  demeanor.  Is  he  a  man  whose  art  is  a 
trade,  who  paints  a  picture  as  he  would  daub 
the  side  of  a  house  ?  Or  is  he  the  true  Artist,  a 
refined  and  spiritualized  being,  Raphael  in  look, 
Era  Angelico  in  life,  a  man  in  force,  but  with 
the  feminine  insight,  —  one  whose  labor  is  love, 
one  whose  every  work  is  a  poem  and  a  prayer  ? 
Which  ?  Shall  I  knock  and  discover  ?  An  ar 
tist  generally  opens  his  doors  hospitably  to  an 
amateur. 

"No,"   I  decided,  "I  will   not  knock.     We 


CECIL  DREEME.  59 

shall  meet,  if  Destiny  has  no  objection.  Two  in 
the  same  Chrysalis,  we  cannot  dodge  each  other 
without  some  trouble.  If  I  am  lonely  by  and 
by,  and  yearn  for  a  friend,  and  he  does  not  dance 
through  my  centre-piece,  I  will  fire  a  pistol-ball 
through  his  floor.  Then  apology,  laugh,  confes 
sion,  and  sworn  friendship,  —  that  is,  of  course, 
if  he  is  Raphael- Angelico,  not  Bohemian-Dussel- 
dorf." 

These  fancies,  so  long  in  the  telling,  flashed 
rapidly  through  my  mind. 

I  turned  away  from  the  door, 'with  its  quiet 
announcement  of  the  name  and  business  of  a 
tenant,  not  precisely  evading,  but  certainly  not 
inviting  notice. 

I  made  my  way  down,  and  up  again  by  the 
other  staircase  to  the  same  floor.  Here  I  found 
the  same  arrangement  of  rooms,  but  more  popu 
lation  and  fewer  cobwebs.  The  southern  expos 
ure  was  preferred  to  the  northern,  in  that  chilly 
structure. 

I  knocked  at  Mr.  John  Churm's  door  in  the 
southwest  corner  of  the  building. 

No  "  Come  in."  I  must  dine  alone  at  the 
Chuzzlewit. 

As  I  stepped  from  Chrysalis,  I  gave  a  look  to 
Ailan thus  Square  in  front. 

"  This  will  never  do !  "  I  exclaimed. 

It  was  a  wretched  place,  stiffly  laid  out,  shab- 


60  CECIL  DREEME. 

bily  kept,  planted  with  mean,  twigless  trees,  and 
in  the  middle  the  basin  of  an  extinct  fountain 
filled  with  foul  snow,  through  which  the  dead 
cats  and  dogs  were  beginning  to  sprout  at  the 
solicitation  of  the  winter's  sunshine. 

A  dreary  place,  and  drearily  surrounded  by 
red  brick  houses,  with  marble  steps  monstrous 
white,  and  blinds  monstrous  green,  —  all  destined 
to  be  boarding-houses  in  a  decade. 

"  This  will  never  do  ! "  I  exclaimed  again. 
"  Outdoor  life  offers  no  temptation.  I  am  forced 
inward  to  indoor  duties  and  pleasures.  Objects 
in  America  are  not  attractive.  I  must  content 
myself  with  people.  And  what  people  ?  My 
first  day  wanes,  Stillfleet  is  off,  and  I  have  made 
no  acquaintance  but  a  musical  name  on  a  door 
in  a  dusty  corner  of  Chrysalis." 


CHAPTER    Y. 

CHURM  AGAINST  DENSDETH. 

I  HAD  hardly  taken  my  first  spoonful  of  luke 
warm  mock  soup  at  the  long,  crowded  dinner- 
table  of  the  Chuzzlewit,  when  General  Blinckers, 
a  fellow-passenger  on  the  Arago,  caught  sight  of 
me.  He  bowed,  with  a  burly,  pompous,  militia- 
general  manner,  and  sent  me  his  sherry.  It  was 
the  Chuzzlewit  Amontillado,  so  a  gorgeous  label 
announced,  and  sunshine,  so  its  date  alleged, 
had  ripened  it  a  score  of  years  before  on  an  aro 
matic  hill-side  of  Spain.  But  the  bottle  was  very 
young  for  old  wine,  the  label  very  pretentious  for 
famous  wine,  and  my  draught,  as  I  expected, 
gnawed  me  cruelly. 

In  a  moment  came  a  bow  from  Governor  Bluf 
fer,  also  fellow-passenger,  and  his  bottle  of  the 
Chuzzlewit  champagne,  —  label  prismatic  and 
glowing,  bubbles  transitory,  wine  sugary  and 
vapid. 

Bluffer  was  of  Indiana,  returning  from  a  trip 
to  Europe  as  a  railroad-bond  placer.  He  had 
placed  his  bonds,  second  mortgages  of  the  Mud- 


62  CECIL  DREEME. 

defontaine  Railroad,  with  great  success.  His 
State  would  now  become  first  in  America,  first 
in  Christendom.  He  was  sure  of  it.  And  by 
way  of  advancing  the  process,  he  had  proposed 
to  me  to  become  "  Professor  of  Science  "  in  the 
Terryhutte  University,  —  salary  five  third  mort 
gages  of  the  Muddefontaine  per  annum. 

Blinckers  was  of  Tennessee,  wild-land  agent. 
He  had  been  urgent  all  the  passage  that  I  should 
take  post  as  Professor  in  the  Nolachucky  State 
Polytechnic  School,  —  salary  a  thousand  acres 
per  annum  of  wild  land  in  the  Cumberland 
Mountains. 

Both  of  these  offers  I  had  declined ;  but  I  was 
obliged  to  the  two  gentlemen.  I  bowed  back  to 
their  bows,  and  sipped  the  liquids  they  had  sent 
me  without  mouthing. 

Presently,  as  I  glanced  up  and  down  the  table, 
I  caught  sight  of  Densdeth's  dark,  handsome 
face.  He  had  turned  from  his  companion,  and 
was  looking  at  me.  He  lifted  his  black  mous 
tache  with  a  slight  sneer,  and  pointed  to  untasted 
glasses  of  Blinckers  and  Bluffer  standing  before 
him. 

"  See !  "  his  glance  seemed  to  say.  "  Libations 
at  the  shrine  of  Densdeth,  the  millionnaire. 
Those  old  chaps  would  kiss  my  feet,  if  I  hinted 
it.'' 

Then  he  held  up  his  own  private  glass,  as  if 
to  say,  with  Comus, — 


CECIL  DREEME.  63 

"  Behold  this  cordial  julep  here, 
That  flames  and  dances  in  his  crystal  bounds  !  " 

A  dusty  magnum  stood  beside  him,  without 
label,  but  wearing  a  conscious  look  of  impor 
tance.  He  carefully  filled  a  goblet  with  its 
purple  contents,  and  despatched  it  to  me  by  his 
own  servant. 

Densdeth  was  a  coxcomb,  partly  by  nature, 
partly  for  effect.  He  liked  to  call  attention  to 
himself  as  the  Great  Densdeth.  He  always  had 
special  wines,  special  dainties,  and  special  ser 
vice. 

"  It  pays  to  be  conspicuous,"  he  said  to  me,  on 
board  the  steamer.  "  I  don't  attempt  to  hum 
bug  fellows  like  you,  Byng,"  —  and  at  this  I  of 
course  felt  a  little  complimented,  — "  but  we 
must  take  men  as  we  find  them.  They  are 
asses.  I  treat  them  as  such.  Ordinary  people 
adore  luxury.  They  love  to  see  it,  whether 
they  share  it  or  not.  A  little  quiet  show  and 
lavishness  on  one's  self  is  a  capital  thing  to 
get  the  world's  confidence. 

"  Besides,  Byng,"  he  continued,  "  I  love  lux 
ury  for  its  own  sake.  I  mean  to  have  the  best 
for  all  my  senses.  I  keep  myself  in  perfect 
health,  you  see,  for  perfect  sensitiveness  and 
perfect  enjoyment.  Why  should  n't  I  take  the 
little  trouble  it  requires  to  have  the  most  deli 
cate  wine,  and  other  things  the  most  delicate, 


64  CECIL   DREEME. 

always  at  command  ?  Life  is  short.  Apres,  le 
deluge,  or  worse." 

While  I  was  recalling  these  remarks,  Dens- 
deth's  servant  had  deposited  the  wine  at  my 
right.  He  was  an  Afreet  creature,  this  ser 
vant,  black,  ugly,  and  brutal  as  the  real  Mumbo 
Jumbo.  Yet  sometimes,  as  he  stood  by  his  mas 
ter,  I  could  not  avoid  perceiving  a  resemblance, 
and  fancying  him  a  misbegotten  repetition  of 
the  other.  And  at  the  moments  when  I  mis 
trusted  Densdeth,  I  felt  that  the  Afreet's  repul 
sive  appearance  more  fitly  interpreted  his  mas 
ter's  soul  than  the  body  by  which  it  acted. 

I  raised  the  goblet  to  my  mouth.  The  aroma 
was  delicious. 

"  Densdeth,"  I  thought,  "  must  have  had  a 
cask  of  the  happiest  vintage  of  Burgundy's  di- 
vinest  juice  hung  in  gimbals,  and  floated  over 
the  Atlantic  in  the  June  calms." 

I  put  the  fragrant  draught  to  my  lips,  and 
bowed  my  compliments. 

Densdeth  was  studying  me,  with  a  covert  ex 
pression, —  so  I  felt  or  fancied.  I  interpreted  his 
look,  —  "  Young  man,  I  saw  on  the  steamer  that 
you  were  worth  buying,  worth  perverting.  I  have 
spent  more  civility  than  usual  on  you  already. 
How  much  more  have  I  to  pay  ?  Are  you  a 
cheap  commodity  ?  Or  must  I  give  time  and 
pains  and  study  to  make  you  mine  ?  " 


CECIL  DREEME.  65 

• 

Do  these  fancies  seem  extravagant  ?  They 
must  justify  themselves  hereafter  in  this  history. 

I  set  down  Densdeth's  glass,  untasted. 

"  What  does  it  mean,"  thought  I,  "  this  man's 
strange  fascination  ?  When  his  eyes  are  upon 
me,  I  feel  something  stir  in  my  heart,  saying, 
'  Be  Densdeth's  !  He  knows  the  mystery  of 
life.'  I  begin  to  dread  him.  Will  he  master 
my  will  ?  What  is  this  potency  of  his  ?  How 
has  he  got  this  lodgment  in  my  spirit  ?  Is  he 
one  of  those  fabulous  personages  who  only  exist 
while  they  are  preying  upon  another  soul,  who 
are  torpid  unless  they  are  busy  contriving  a  dam 
nation  ?  Why  has  he  been  trying  to  turn  me 
inside  out  all  the  voyage  ?  Why  has  he  kept 
touching  the  raw  spots  and  the  rotten  spots  in 
my  nature  ?  I  can  be  of  no  use  to  him.  What 
does  he  want  of  me?  Not  to  make  me  better 
and  nobler,  —  that  I  am  sure  of.  No  ;  I  will  not 
touch  his  wine.  I  will  keep  clear  of  his  atten 
tions." 

By  the  way  of  desperate  evasion,  I  seized  and 
tossed  off,  first,  Governor  Bluffer's  mawkish 
champagne,  and  then  the  acrid  fabrication  with 
which  Blinckers  had  honored  me. 

Of  course  the  rash  and  feeble  dodge  was  futile. 
I  was  not  to  be  let  off  in  that  way. 

There  stood  Densdeth's  wine,  attracting  me 
like  some  magic  philter.  It  became  magnetic 


66  CECIL   DREEME. 

with  Densdeth's  magnetism.  I  could  almost  see 
an  imp  in  the  glass,  —  not  the  teetotaller's  bottle- 
imp,  but  a  special  sprite,  urging  me,  "  Drink, 
and  let  the  draught  symbolize  renewed  intimacy 
with  Densdeth  !  Drink,  and  accept  his  proffered 
alliance.  Be  wise,  and  taste  !  " 

The  vulgar  scenery  of  the  long  dining-room 
faded  away  from  my  eyes.  The  vulgar,  dressy 
women,  the  ill-dressed,  vulgar  men,  the  oleagi 
nous  waiters,  all  became  distant  shadows.  I  heard 
the  clatter  and  bustle  and  pop  about  me,  as 
one  hears  the  hum  of  mosquitos  outside  a  bar 
at  drowsy  midnight.  I  was  conscious  of  nothing 
but  the  wine  —  the  philter  —  and  him  who  had 
poured  it  out. 

Absurd !  Yes ;  no  doubt.  But  fact.  Cer 
tainly  a  Chuzzlewit  dining-room  is  a  shrine  of 
the  commonplace ;  but  even  there  such  a  mood 
is  possible  under  such  an  influence.  Densdeth 
was  exceptional. 

I  sat  staring  at  the  silly  glass  of  wine,  and 
began  to  make  an  unwholesome  test  of  my  self- 
control.  I  recalled  the  typical  legend  of  Eve 
and  the  apple,  and  exaggerated  the  moral  im 
portance  of  my  own  incident  after  the  same 
fashion. 

"  If  I  resist  this  symbolic  cup,"  thought  I,  "  I 
am  my  own  man  ;  if  I  yield,  I  am  Densdeth's." 

When  a  man  is  weak  enough  to  put  slavery 


CECIL   DREEME.  67 

and  freedom  thus  in  the  balance,  it  is  plain  that 
he  will  presently  be  a  slave. 

"  Bah  !  "  I  thought.  "  What  harm,  after  all, 
can  this  terrible  person  do  me  ?  Why  should 
n't  I  accept  his  alliance  ?  Why  should  n't  I 
study  him,  and  learn  the  secret  of  his  power." 

My  slight  resistance  was  about  to  yield  to  the 
spiritual  enticement  of  the  wine,  when  suddenly 
an  outer  force  broke  the  spell. 

A  gentleman  had  just  taken  a  vacant  chair 
at  my  right.  Absorbed  in  the  melee  of  my  own 
morbid  fancies,  I  had  merely  perceived  his  pres 
ence,  without  noticing  his  person. 

Suddenly  this  new-comer  took  part  in  the 
drama.  He  flirted  his  napkin,  and  knocked 
Densdeth's  wine-glass  over  into  my  plate.  The 
purple  fluid  made  an  unpleasant  mixture  with 
my  untouched  portion  of  fish. 

"  Thank  you !  "  I  exclaimed,  waking  at  once 
from  my  half-trance,  my  magnetic  stupor,  and 
feeling  foolish. 

I  turned  to  look  at  my  unexpected  ally.  Per 
haps  some  clumsy  oaf  who  had  never  brandished 
a  napkin  before,  and  struck  wide,  like  a  raw 
swordsman. 

No.  My  neighbor  was  a  gentleman.  He  held 
out  his  hand  cordially. 

"  Have  I  waked  you  fully,  Byng  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Mr.  Churm  ?  "  said  I. 


68  CECIL   DREEME. 

He  nodded.  We  shook  hands.  The  touch 
dissipated  my  brief  insanity. 

"  You  have  been  in  a  state  of  coma  so  long 
over  that  wine,"  said  he,  "  that  I  thought  I  would 
give  you  a  fillip  of  help." 

I  tried  to  laugh. 

"  No,"  resumed  Churm.  "  Only  escaped  dan 
gers  show  their  comic  side.  You  are  not  safe 
from  Densdeth  yet.  You  would  have  yielded 
just  now  if  I  had  not  spilled  the  glass." 

"Yielded!"  I  rejoined.  "Not  exactly;  I 
was  proposing  to  test  his  mysterious  influ 
ence." 

"  Never  try  that !  Don't  dive  into  temptation 
to  show  how  stoutly  you  can  swim.  Once  fairly 
under  water  in  Acheron,  and  you  never  come  to 
the  top  again." 

"  Face  Satan,  and  he  flies,  is  not  your  motto, 
then." 

"  Face  him  when  you  must ;  fly  him  when 
you  may." 

"But really, — Devil  and  Densdeth;  is  it  quite 
polite  to  identify  them  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  If  you  do  not  wish  to  see  them  melt  into  one, 
keep  yourself  from  both." 

"And  stay  in  a  pretty  paradise  of  innocence  ?" 

"  I  cannot  jest  about  this,  Byng.  I  knew  a 
fresh,  strong,  pure  soul,  —  fresher,  stronger, 
purer  than  the  fairest  dreams  of  perfection.  It 


CECIL   DREEME.  69 

was  the  destiny  of  such  a  soul  to  battle  with 
Densdeth  and  be  beaten.  Yes  ;  defeated,  and 
driven  to  madness  or  despair." 

"  You  are  speaking  of  Clara  Denman." 

"  I  am." 

As  he  replied,  I  looked  up  and  caught  Dens 
deth' s  eye.  He  took  my  glance  and  carried  it 
with  his  to  the  upper  end  of  the  table.  A  flam 
boyant  demirep  was  seated  there.  Densdeth 
marked  that  I  observed  her,  and  then  smiled 
sinister,  as  if  to  say  :  "  Byng,  the  romantic,  there 
is  the  type  of  American  women  ;  look  at  her, 
and  correct  your  boyish  ideal." 

Churm  noticed  this  by-play. 

"  But  better  madness  and  death  for  my  dear 
child,"  said  he,  sadly,  "  than  Densdeth  !  " 

Then  waiving  the  subject,  he  continued:  "You 
were  surprised  to  find  me  at  your  side." 

"  It  was  an  odd  chance,  certainly." 

"  No  chance.  Locksley  told  me  that  you  had 
moved  in  from  the  Chuzzlewit,  as  Stillfleet's  suc 
cessor.  I  knocked  at  Rubbish  Palace  door.  You 
were  out.  I  thought  you  might  be  dining  here. 
I  looked  in,  saw  you,  and  took  my  seat  at  your 
side.  I  did  not  hurry  recognition.  I  was  curi 
ous  to  see  if  you  would  know  an  old  friend." 

"  I  have  called  upon  you  already,"  said  I.  "I 
am  a  big  boy,  but  I  wanted  to  put  myself  under 
tutelage." 


70  CECIL  DREEME. 

"  Well,  we  are  in  the  same  Chrysalis  ;  we  will 
try  to  take  care  of  each  other  till  our  wing." 

My  lively  interest  in  the  name  Cecil  Dreeme 
recurred  to  me. 

"  Are  there  Others  worth  knowing  in  Chrys 
alis  ? "  I  asked. 

"  No.  Bright  fellows  like  brighter  places. 
Only  an  old  troglodyte  like  myself  burrows  in 
such  a  cavern.  Nobody  but  Stillfleet  could  have 
kept  in  jolly  health  there.  Take  care  it  does  not 
make  you  sombre." 

"  It  will  suit  my  sober,  plodding  habits.  But 
tell  me,  do  you  know  anything  of  a  Mr.  Dreeme, 
a  painter,  fellow-lodger  of  ours  ?  I  saw  his  name 
on  a  door  as  I  was  looking  for  yours  ?  Is  he  a 
rising  genius  ?  Must  I  know  him  ?  " 

As  I  asked  these  questions,  it  happened  that 
Densdeth  laughed  in  reply  to  some  joke  of  his 
guest. 

Densdeth's  smile,  unless  he  chose  to  let  it  pass 
into  a  sneer,  was  gentlemanly  and  winning.  A 
little  incredulous  and  inattentive  I  had  found  it 
when  I  spoke  of  heroism,  charity,  or  self-sacrifice. 
It  pardoned  belief  in  such  whimsies  as  a  juve 
nility.  His  laugh,  however,  expressed  a  riper 
cynicism.  It  was  faithless  and  cruel,  —  I  had 
sometimes  thought  brutally  so. 

Breaking  in  at  this  moment,  rather  loudly  for 
the  public  place,  it  seemed  to  strike  at  the  ro- 


CECIL   DREEME.  71 

mantic  interest  I  had  felt  in  the  name  Cecil 
Dreeme.  What  would  a  man  of  the  world  think 
of  such  idle  fancies  as  I  had  indulged  apropos  of 
the  painter's  door-card  ?  I  really  hoped  Clmrm 
would  be  able  to  reply,  "  0,  Dreeme  !  He 
is  a  creature  with  a  seedy  velvet  coat,  frowzy 
hair,  big  pipe, —  rank  Diisseldorf.  Don't  know 
him !  " 

"  There  is  a  young  fellow  of  that  name  in  the 
building,"  said  Churm.  "  I  have  never  happened 
to  see  him.  Locksley  says  he  is  a  quiet,  gentle 
manly  youth  from  the  country,  who  lives  retired, 
works  hard,  and  minds  his  own  business." 

Neither  my  friend  nor  I  ventured  upon  serious 
topics  for  the  rest  of  the  dinner. 

"  I  have  an  errand  down  town,"  said  lie. 
"  You  shall  walk  with  me,  and  afterwards  we 
will  discuss  your  prospects  over  a  cigar  at  Chrys 
alis." 

So  we  talked  Europe  —  a  light  subject  to 
Americans  —  until  dessert  was  over,  and  the 
Chuzzlewit  guests  began  to  file  out,  wishing  they 
had  not  taken  so  much  pie  and  meringue  on  top 
of  the  salad,  and  had  given  to  the  Tract  Society 
the  two  dollars  now  racking  their  several  brains, 
and  rioting  in  their  several  stomachs,  in  the  form 
of  sherry  or  champagne. 

Churm  and  I  joined  the  procession.  We  were 
battling  for  our  hats  in  the  lobby  with  a  brace  of 


72  CECIL  DREEME. 

seedy  gents  who  proposed  to  appropriate  them, 
when  Densdeth  came  out. 

He  saluted  me  cordially  and  Churm  distantly. 

No  love  between  these  two.  Apart  from  any 
moral  contrast,  their  temperaments  were  too  op 
posite  to  combine.  Antagonistic  natures  do  not 
necessarily  make  man  and  woman  hostile,  even 
when  they  are  imprisoned  for  life  in  matrimony ; 
domestic  life  stirs  and  stirs,  slow  and  steady,  and 
at  last  the  two  mix,  like  the  oil  and  mustard  in 
a  mayonnaise.  But  the  more  contact,  the  more 
repulsion,  in  two  men  of  such  different  quality  as 
Churm  and  Densdeth. 

Both  were  quiet  and  self-possessed,  and  yet  it 
seemed  to  me  that,  if  a  thin  shell  of  decorum  and 
restraint  between  them  should  be  broken  by  any 
outer  force,  the  two  would  clash  together  like 
explosive  gases,  and  the  weaker  be  utterly  con 
sumed  away.  I  had  already  had  hints,  as  I  have 
stated,  that  they  had  causes  for  dislike.  I  could 
not  wonder,  as  I  saw  them  standing  side  by  side. 
They  were  as  different  as  men  could  be  and  yet 
be  men. 

I  observed  them  with  a  certain  premonition 
that  I  was  to  be  in  some  way  drawn  into  the 
battle  they  must  fight  or  were  fighting.  With 
which  captain  was  I  to  be  ranged  ? 

Densdeth  was  a  man  of  slight,  elegant,  active 
figure,  and  of  clear,  colorless,  olive  complexion. 


CECIL  DREEME.  73 

His  hair  was  black  and  studiously  arranged. 
He  was  shaved,  except  a  long  drooping  mous 
tache, — that  he  could  not  have  spared ;  it  served 
sometimes  to  conceal,  sometimes  to  emphasize,  a 
sneer.  His  nose  was  a  delicate  aquiline,  and  his 
other  fine-cut  features  corresponded.  His  eyes 
were  yellow,  feline,  and  restless,  —  the  only  rest 
less  thing  about  him.  They  glanced  from  your 
lips  to  your  eyes  and  back,  while  you  talked 
with  him,  as  if  to  catch  each  winged  word,  and 
compare  it  with  the  expression  perched  above. 
Quick  and  sidelong  looks  detect  a  swarm  of 
Pleiads  where  the  steady  gaze  sees  only  six. 
Densdeth  seemed  to  have  learnt  this  lesson  from 
astronomy ;  he  shot  his  glance  across  your  face 
to  catch  expressions  which  fancied  themselves 
latent.  Keen  eyes  Densdeth's  to  recognize  a 
villain. 

Churm  was  sturdy  and  vigorous ;  well  built, 
one  would  say,  not  well  made  ;  built  for  use,  not 
made  for  show.  His  Saxon  coloring  of  hair  and 
complexion  were  almost  the  artistic  contrast  to 
Densdeth's  Oriental  hues.  He  wore  his  hair  and 
thick  brown  beard  cut  short.  His  features  were 
all  strongly  marked  and  finished  somewhat  in  the 
rough,  not  weakened  by  chiselling  and  mending. 
His  eyes  were  blue,  frank,  and  earnest.  He  looked 
his  man  fair  and  square  in  the  face,  and  never 
swerved  until  each  had  had  his  say.  Keen  enough, 


T4  CECIL   DREEME. 

too,  Clmrm's  eyes.  They  were  his  lanterns  to 
search  for  an  honest  man  and  friend,  not  for  a 
rogue  and  tool. 

These  men's  voices  also  proclaimed  natures  at 
war. 

In  wild  beasts  the  cry  reveals  the  character- 
So  it  does  in  man,  —  a  cross  between  a  beast 
and  a  soul.  If  beast  is  keeping  soul  under, 
he  lets  the  world  know  it  in  every  word  his 
man  speaks.  The  snarl,  the  yelp,  and  the 
howl  are  all  there  for  him  that  has  ears  to 
hear.  If  the  soul  in  the  man  has  good  hope 
and  good  courage,  through  all  his  tones  sound 
the  song  of  hope  and  the  paean  of  assured  vic 
tory. 

Churm's  voice  was  bold  and  sweet,  with  a 
sharp  edge.  He  was  outspoken  and  incisive. 
Any  mind,  not  muffled  by  moss  or  thicket,  would 
hear  itself  echo  when  he  spoke.  His  laugh,  if  it 
made  free  to  leap  out  for  a  holiday,  was  a  boy's 
laugh,  frank,  merry,  and  irrepressible.  There 
was,  however,  underneath  all  his  cheerful,  inspir 
ing,  and  forgiving  tones,  a  stern  Ehadamanthine 
quality,  as  of  one  to  whom  profound  experience 
has  given  that  rare,  costly,  and  sorrowful  right, 
—  the  right  to  judge  and  condemn. 

Densdeth  spoke  with  a  delicate  lisp,  or  rather 
Spanish  softness.  There  was  a  snarl,  however, 
beneath  these  mild,  measured  notes.  He  soothed 


CECIL   DREEME.  75 

you ;  but  you  felt  that  there  was  a  claw  curled 
under  the  velvet.  As  to  his  laugh,  it  was  jackal, 
—  a  cruel,  traitorous  laugh,  without  sympathy  or 
humor,  —  a  sneer  given  voice.  But  this  ugly 
sound  it  was  impossible  to  be  much  with  Dens- 
deth  and  not  first  echo  and  then  adopt. 

The  same  general  contrast  of  nature  was  Visi 
ble  in  the  costumes  of  these  gentlemen.  Even  a 
coat  may  be  one  of  the  outward  signs  by  which 
we  betray  the  grace  or  disgrace  that  is  in  us. 

Churm  was  in  fatigue  dress.  He  looked  water 
proof,  sun-proof,  frost-proof.  No  tenderness  for 
his  clothes  would  ever  check  him  from  wading  a 
gutter  or  storming  a  slum,  if  there  were  man  to 
be  aided  or  woman  to  be  saved.  He  dressed  as 
if  life  were  a  battle,  and  he  were  appointed  to  the 
thick  of  the  fight,  too  well  known  a  generalissimo 
to  need  a  uniform. 

Densdeth  was  a  little  too  carefully  dressed. 
His  clothes  had  a  conscious  air.  His  trousers 
hung  as  if  they  felt  his  eye  on  them,  and  dreaded 
a  beating  if  they  bagged.  His  costume  was  gen 
erally  quiet,  so  severely  quiet  that  it  was  evident 
he  desired  to  be  flagrant,  and  obeyed  tact  rather 
than  taste.  In  fact,  taste  always  hung  out  a  pro 
test  of  a  diamond  stud,  or  an  elaborate  chain  or 
eye-glass.  Still  these  were  not  glaring  errors, 
and  Densdeth's  distinguished  air  and  marked 
Orientalism  of  face  made  a  touch  of  splendor 
tolerable. 


76  CECIL  DREEME. 

I  sketch  a  few  of  the  external  traits  of  these 
two.  I  might  continue  the  contrast  at  length. 
Even  at  that  period  of  my  acquaintance  they  had 
become  representative  personages  to  me.  And 
now,  as  I  look  back  upon  that  time,  I  find  that  I 
divined  them  justly.  They  in  some  measure  per 
sonified  to  me  the  two  opposing  forces  that  war 
for  every  soul. 

As  they  bowed  coldly  to  each  other  in  the  hall 
of  the  Chuzzlewit,  and  turned  to  me,  I  seemed  at 
once  to  become  conscious  of  their  rival  influences. 
My  dual  nature  felt  the  dual  attraction. 

"  Glad  to  see  you  again,  Byng,"  said  Dens- 
deth,  offering  his  hand.  "  Will  you  walk  into 
my  parlor  ?  I  am  quartered  here  for  a  day  or 
two.  Come  ;  I  can  give  you  an  honest  cigar  and 
a  thimbleful  of  Chartreuse." 

"  Thank  you,"  I  replied.  "  Another  time,  if 
you  please.  Just  now  I  am  off  with  Mr.  Churm." 

"  Au  revoir  !  "  says  Densdeth.  "  But  let  me 
not  forget  to  mention  that  I  have  seen  our  friends, 
Mr.  and  Miss  Denman.  They  hope  for  a  call 
from  you,  for  old  friendship's  sake.  If  I  had 
known  of  your  former  intimacy  there,  we  should 
have  had  another  tie  on  board  the  steamer." 

His  yellow  eyes  came  and  went  as  he  spoke, 
exploring  my  face  to  discover,  "  What  has  Churm 
told  him  of  me  and  Clara  Denman  ?  What  has 
he  heard  of  that  tragedy  ?  Something,  but  how 
much  ?  " 


CECIL  DREEME.  77 

"  Miss  Denman  will  be  at  home  to-morrow,  at 
one,"  he  continued.  "  I  took  the  liberty  to 
promise  that  you  would  accept  my  guidance,  and 
pay  your  respects  at  that  hour." 

"  You  are  very  kind,"  I  of  course  said.  "  I 
will  go  with  pleasure." 

"  I  will  call  for  you,  then,  at  Chrysalis.  I 
heard  here  at  the  hotel-office  that  you  had  moved 
into  Harry  Stillfleet's  grand  den.  I  felicitate 
you." 

"  You  have  a  den  adjoining,"  said  I,  my  tone 
no  doubt  betraying  some  curiosity. 

"  0,  my  lumber-room,"  he  replied,  carelessly. 
"  I  find  it  quite  a  convenience.  A  nomad  bach 
elor  like  myself  needs  some  place  to  store  what 
traps  he  cannot  carry  in  his  portmanteau." 

"  Well,  Mr.  Churm,"  said  I,  as  we  walked  off 
together ;  "  you  see  I  cannot  evade  Densdeth. 
He  is  my  first  acquaintance  at  home,  my  next- 
door  neighbor  in  Chrysalis,  and  now  he  takes  the 
superintendence  of  my  re-introduction  to  old 
friends.  Fate  seems  determined  that  I  shall 
clash  against  him.  I  am  not  sure  whether  my 
self  is  elastic  enough  to  throw  him  off,  even  if 
I  desire  to." 

"  No  self  gets  a  vigorous  repelling  power  until 
it  is  condensed  by  suifering." 

"  Then  I  would  rather  stay  soft  and  yielding," 
said  I,  lightly.  "  But,  Mr.  Churm,  before  I  call 


78  CECIL   DREEME. 

upon  the  Denmans,  you  must  tell  me  the  whole 
story  of  their  "tragedy,  otherwise  I  may  wound 
them  ignorantly." 

"  I  desire  to  do  so,  my  dear  boy,  for  many 
reasons.  We  will  have  a  session  presently  at 
your  rooms,  and  talk  that  history  through." 

He  walked  on  down  Broadway,  silent  and 
moody. 

"  Observe  where  I  lead  you,"  said  he,  turning 
to  the  east  through  several  mean,  narrow  streets. 

"  Seems  to  me,"  said  I,  "  you  have  fouler 
slums  here  than  Europe  tolerates." 

"  If  you  could  see  the  person  I  am  going  to 
visit,  you  would  understand  why.  If  men  here 
must  skulk  because  they  are  base,  or  guilty,  or 
imbecile,  they  strive  to  get  more  completely  out 
of  sight,  and  shelter  themselves  behind  more 
stenches  than  people  do  in  countries  where  the 
social  system  partially  justifies  degradation.  But 
here  we  are,  Byng.  I  have  brought  you  along 
with  a  purpose." 

Churm  stopped  in  front  of  a  mean,  frowzy  row 
of  brick  buildings.  He  led  the  way  through  a 
most  unsavory  alley  into  a  court,  or  rather  space, 
serving  as  a  well  to  light  the  rear  range  of  a 
tenement-house.  In  a  guilty-looking  entry  of 
this  back  building  Churin  left  me,  while  he  en 
tered  a  wretched  room. 

It  is  no  part  of  my  purpose  to  describe  this 


CECIL  DREEME.  79 

dismal  place,  or  to  moralize  over  it.  Perhaps 
at  that  time  in  my  life  I  had  too  little  pity 
for  poverty,  and  only  a  healthy  disgust  for  filth. 
I  remained  outside,  smoking  and  listening  to 
the  jackal-voices  of  the  young  barbarians  crying 
for  supper  from  cellar  to  garret  of  the  building. 

"  You  will  remember  this  spot,"  said  Churm, 
issuing  after  a  few  moments,  and  leading  the 
way  out  again. 

"  My  poor  victimized  nose  will  have  hard 
work  to  forget  it." 

"  And  the  name  Towner,"  my  friend  con 
tinued. 

"  Also  Towner,"  I  rejoined.  And  probably 
my  tone  expressed  the  query,  "  Who  is  he  ?  " 

"  Towner  is  the  tarnished  reverse  of  that  bur 
nished  medal  Densdeth,  —  Densdeth  without  gild 
ing." 

"  Did  Densdeth  fling  him  away  into  this  hole  ?  " 

"  He  is  lying  perdu  here,  hid  from  Densdeth 
and  the  world.  He  has  been  a  clerk,  agent, 
tool,  slave,  of  the  Great  Densdeth.  The  poor 
wretch  has  a  little  shrivelled  bit  of  conscience 
left.  It  twinges  him  sometimes,  like  a  dying 
nerve  in  a  rotten  tooth.  He  sent  for  me  the 
other  day,  by  Locksley,  saying  that  he  was  sick, 
poor,  and  penitent  for  a  villany  he  had  done 
against  me,  and  wanted  to  confess  before  he 
died,  and  before  Densdeth  could  find  him  again. 


80  CECIL  DREEME. 

This  is  my  third  visit.  He  cannot  make  up  his 
impotent  mind  to  confession.  He  must  speak 
soon,  or  concealment  will  kill  him.  I  am  to 
come  down  to-night  at  eleven  and  watch  with 
him." 

"  Till  when  you  will  watch  with  me  in  Chrys 
alis." 

"  Yes ;  and  now  I  suppose  you  wonder  why 
I  hrought  you  here." 

"  To  teach  me  that  republics  are  unsavory  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  I  want  you  to  take  an  interest  in 
this  poor  devil,  in  case  I  should  be  absent ;  per 
haps  I  wish  you  to  see  the  result  of  the  Dens- 
deth  experiment,  when  it  does  not  succeed ; 
perhaps  —  well,  Byng,  you  will  promise  me  to 
expend  a  little  of  your  superabundant  vitality 
on  my  patient,  if  he  needs  it  ?  " 

"  Certainly ;  but  understood,  that  you  pay  to 
have  me  deodorized  and  disinfected  after  each 
visit." 

I  could  not  give  a  cheerful  turn  to  the  talk. 
Churm  walked  on,  silent  and  out  of  spirits. 


CHAPTER   VI. 

CHURM  AS  CASSANDRA. 

WE  turned  from  Broadway  down  Cornwallis 
Place,  parallel  to  Mannering  Place,  and  entered 
Chrysalis  by  the  side  door  upon  that  street. 

"I  have  a  word  to  say  to  the  janitor,"  said 
Churm. 

Pretty  Dora  Locksley  admitted  us  to  the  snug 
gery.  Lighted  up,  it  was  even  more  cheerful 
than  when  I  saw  it  with  Stillfleet.  The  table 
was  set  for  supper.  The  bright  teapot,  the  bright 
plates,  the  bright  knives  and  forks,  had  each  its 
own  bright  reflection  of  the  gas-light  to  contrib 
ute  to  the  general  illumination. 

Mrs.  Locksley,  the  bright  cause  of  all  this  bril 
liancy,  was  making  the  first  cut  into  a  pumpkin- 
pie  of  her  own  confection,  as  we  entered.  It  was 
the  ideal  pumpkin-pie.  Its  varnished  surface 
shone  with  a  rich,  mellow  glow,  and  all  about  its 
marge  a  ruffle  of  paste  of  fairest  complexion 
lifted,  like  the  rim  of  delighted  hills  about  a 
happy  valley.  As  Mrs.  Locksley 's  knife  cleft  the 
soil  of  this  sweet  vale,  fragrant  incense  steamed 

4*  F 


82  CECIL  DREEME. 

up  into  the  air.  What  nose  would  not  sniff 
away  all  remembrance  of  the  mephitic  odors  it 
had  inhaled,  to  entertain  this  fresh,  wholesome 
emanation  ?  Mine  did  at  once.  I  felt  myself 
deodorized  from  the  sour  souvenirs  of  Towner's 
slum.  The  moral  atmosphere,  too,  of  this  honest, 
cheerful,  simple  home-scene  acted  as  a  moral 
disinfectant.  The  healthy  picture  hung  itself 
up  in  a  good  light  in  my  mental  gallery.  It  was 
well  it  should  be  there.  Chrysalis  owed  me  this, 
as  a  contrast  to  the  serious  pictures  awaiting  me 
along  its  dusky  halls,  as  a  foil  to  a  sombre  tableau 
hid  behind  the  curtain  at  the  vista's  end. 

Mrs.  Locksley  offered  a  quadrant  of  her  pie  to 
Churm. 

"  I  resign  in  Mr.  Byng's  favor,"  said  he. 

"  Hail  Columbia !  "  cried  I,  accepting  the  resig 
nation  ;  and  as  I  eat  I  felt  my  Americanism  re 
vive. 

"  I've  just  seen  Towner  again,"  Churm  says, 
"  and  am  to  sit  up  with  him." 

"  Poor  fellow  !  "  said  Locksley.  "  Has  he  any 
chance  ?  " 

"  Poor  fellow,  indeed  ! "  cried  Mrs.  Locksley, 
in  wrath,  evidently  sham.  "  Dont  waste  <  poors  ' 
on  him,  William.  Did  n't  he  as  much  as  kill  my 
poor  sister,  and  ruin  us  ?  " 

"  You  don't  look  very  ruinous,  Molly.  No ; 
you  're  built  up  fresh  by  losing  money,  and  not 


CECIL   DREEME.  83 

having  an  Irish  Biddy  to  feed  you  on  mud-pies. 
We  must  not  bear  malice,  wife  !  " 

"  We  don't,  William.  And  the  proof  is  this 
jelly  I  've  made  for  him." 

"Right!"  says  Locksley.  "  But,  Mr.  Churm," 
he  continued,  and  here  his  bristly  aspect  intensi 
fied,  as  if  a  foe  were  at  hand,  "  Mr.  Densdeth  is 
back  in  the  steamer.  He  's  been  here  to  day, 
asking  for  Towner.  But  he  got  nothing  out  of 
me." 

"  The  sight  of  Densdeth  would  kill  the  man. 
He  shivers  at  the  mere  thought  of  his  old  master. 
We  must  keep  him  hid  until  he  dies  or  gets  some 
life  into  him.  Good  night." 

"  A  trusty  fellow,  the  janitor,"  said  I,  as  we 
walked  up  stairs. 

"  Trusty  as  a  steel  bolt  on  an  oak  door." 

"He  will  keep  my  secrets,  if  I  have  any,  as 
one  of  his  collegians  ?  He  won't  stand  on  the 
corner  and  button-hole  everybody  with  the  news 
that  I  never  go  to  bed,  and  hardly  ever  get  up  ? 
He  won't  put  my  deeds  or  misdeeds  in  the  news 
papers  ?  " 

"No.  If  you  should  say  to  him,  '  Locksley, 
I  've  got  a  maggot  in  my  head.  I  am  going  to 
lock  myself  up  in  Rubbish  Palace  and  train  it. 
I  want  to  hibernate  for  three  months  and  not 
see  a  soul,  except  you  with  my  meals.  Let 
me  be  forgotten  ! '  Locksley  would  reply,  '  Yery 


84  CECIL   DREEME. 

well,  sir ! '  And  you  would  be  as  secluded  as 
if  you  had  gone  to  Kamtschatka." 

"  You  speak  as  if  such  things  happened  in 
Chrysalis." 

"  They  might,  under  Locksley." 

"  How  refreshing,"  said  I,  "  to  find  such  a 
place  and  such  a  person  plump  in  the  middle 
of  New  York !  But  tell  me,  what  is  Locksley 
to  Towner?" 

"  Towner  married  our  janitor's  wife's  sister. 
Locksley  is  a  very  clever  machinist.  He  was 
a  prosperous  locksmith,  manufacturing  locks  of 
a  patent  of  his  own,  until  Towner  persuaded 
him  to  indorse  his  paper.  Towner  had  some 
fine  scheme  by  which  he  meant  to  make  him 
self  independent  of  Densdeth,  and  so  escape 
from  his  service.  His  old  master  had  become 
hateful  to  him.  But  Densdeth  did  not  propose 
to  let  his  serf  go  free.  He  made  it  his  business, 
so  both  the  men  think,  to  spoil  the  specula 
tion,  and  ruin  the  two,  financially.  Locksley 
lost  everything.  I  got  him  this  place,  until  he 
could  look  about  and  take  a  fresh  start." 

I  opened  my  door.  From  the  back  of  the 
sombre  apartment,  the  great  black  stove,  with 
its  isinglass  door,  like  a  red  Cyclops  eye,  stared 
at  the  strangers.  The  gas-light  from  the  street 
shone  faint  through  the  narrow  windows. 

"  Ghostly  scenery ! "  said  I,  glancing  about. 


CECIL   DREEME.  85 

The  casts  and  busts  stood  white  and  ghostly 
in  the  corners,  and  by  the  door  of  the  lumber- 
room  a  suit  of  armor,  holding  a  spiked  mace 
in  its  fingerless  gauntlets,  reflected  the  dull  glow 
of  the  fire-light. 

"  Those  great  carved  arm-chairs,"  said  Churm, 
"  stand  as  if  the  shadows  of  so  many  black-robed 
inquisitors  had  just  quitted  them." 

"  What  a  chamber  this  would  have  been," 
I  said,  "  for  the  sittings  of  a  secret  tribunal,  a 
Yehmgericht !  Imagine  yourself  and  me  en 
throned,  with  crapes  over  our  faces,  and  Locks- 
ley,  armed  with  one  of  these  halberds  of  Still- 
fleet's,  leading  in  the  culprit." 

"  Have  you  selected  your  culprit  ?  " 

"  Well,  Densdeth  is  convenient.  He  might 
be  brought  in  from  that  dark  room  of  his,  next 
door.  The  scene  becomes  real  to  me.  Come, 
Mr.  Churm,  you  shall  pronounce  sentence.  Put 
on  the  black  cap,  and  speak  ! " 

"I  condemn  him  to  bless  as  many  lives  as 
he  has  cursed." 

"  A  gentle  penalty ! "  said  I.  "  But  it  may 
take  time.  Who  knows  but  you  are  making  a 
Wandering  Jew  of  our  handsome  Absalomitish 
friend  ?  Fiat  lux ! "  I  continued,  striking  a 
match,  and  lighting  my  chandelier.  "  Vanish 
the  Yehm  and  the  halberd!  Appear  the  nine 
teenth  century  and  the  cigar !  Take  one !  " 


86  CECIL   DREEME. 

Churm  smoked  for  some  time  in  grave  silence. 
At  last  he  began. 

"  I  loved  your  father,  Robert,  like  a  brother. 
For  his  sake  and  your  own,  I  wish  to  be  your 
friend." 

His  benignant  manner,  even  more  than  the 
words,  touched  me.  I  felt  my  eyes  fill  with 
tears. 

"  Thank  you,"  said  I,  "  for  my  father's  sake 
and  my  own.  I  yearn,  as  only  a  fatherless  man 
can,  for  such  a  friend  as  you  may  be.  I  hoped 
I  might  count  upon  you." 

"  We  have  met  but  those  few  times  in  Europe 
since  your  boyhood.  I  think  I  know  something 
of  you.  Still  I  may  as  well  have  more  facts. 
What  do  you  think  of  yourself?  Person  and 
character,  now,  in  a  paragraph." 

"Person  you  see ! "  said  I,  standing  up,  straight 
as  an  exclamation-point.  "  Harry  Stillfleet  made 
me  parade  this  morning,  and  pronounced  me  rea 
sonably  fit  for  service,  legs,  lungs,  and  looks. 
Character,  —  as  to  my  character,  it  is  not  yet 
compacted  enough  for  inspection.  My  soul  grows 
slow  as  a  century-plant.  You  can  hardly  look 
for  blossoms  at  the  end  of  the  first  twenty-five 
years.  I  am  a  fellow  of  good  intentions,  —  that 
is  the  top  of  my  claim.  But  whether  I  am  to  be 
a  pavior  of  hell  or  a  promenader  of  heaven,  is  as 
hell  or  heaven  pleases.  It  seems  to  me  that  my 


CECIL  DREEME.  87 

allotted  method  of  forming  myself  is  by  passing 
out  of  myself  into  others.  I  am  dramatic.  I 
adopt  the  natures  of  my  companions,  and  act  as 
if  I  were  they.  When  I  have  become,  in  my 
proper  person,  a  long  list  of  dramatis  personce, 
I  shall  be  ready  to  live  my  life,  be  it  tragedy, 
comedy,  or  romance.  And  there  you  have  me, 
Mr.  Churm,  in  a  rather  lengthy  paragraph  !  " 

"  I  understand.  And  now  you  have  come 
home,  a  working-man,  who  wishes  ' se  ranger' ?" 

"  I  should  like  to  find  my  place." 

"  Your  place  to  live  you  have  found  already. 
Your  place  to  labor  will  not  be  hard  to  find. 
Capable  men  of  your  trade  are  in  demand.  I 
have  no  doubt  I  can  settle  you  to-morrow." 

"  You  are  a  friend  indeed,"  said  I. 

"Home  and  handicraft  disposed  of; — and  now 
this  young  absentee,  with  his  place  to  live  and 
his  place  to  labor  arranged,  is  beginning  to  think 
of  the  other  want,  namely,  somebody  to  love. 
How  is  that,  Byng  ?  " 

"  <  Hoc  erat  in  votis  !  '  "  said  I,  bashfully. 

"  It  was  in  mine,  when  I  was,  like  you,  im 
pressible,  affectionate,  trustful,  and  in  my  twen 
ties.  My  forties  have  a  confidence  and  a  special 
warning  to  offer  you,  Robert,  if  you  will  accept 
it." 

"  No  mature  man  has  ever  given  me  the  bene 
fit  of  his  experience.  Yours  will  be  most  pre- 


88  CECIL   DREEME. 

"I  strip  off  the  battens,  and  slide  back  the 
hatches,  and  show  you  a  cell  in  my  heart  which 
I  thought  never  to  uncover.  But  there  conies  a 
time,  after  a  man's  grief  has  become  historical 
to  himself,  when  he  owes  the  lesson  of  his  own 
tragedy  to  some  other  man.  You  are  the  man 
to  whom  my  story  belongs." 

"  Why  am  I  the  one  ?  " 

"  That  you  must  discover  for  yourself.  I  tell 
you  my  tale.  You  must  adapt  it  to  your  own 
circumstances.  You  must  put  in  your  own  set 
of  characters  from  the  people  you  meet.  I  point 
a  moral  for  you ;  I  have  no  right  to  impale  others 
upon  it." 

"  You  might  misunderstand  and  wrong  them  ?  " 

"  I  might.  This  bit  of  personal  history  I  am 
about  to  give  you  explains  my  connection  with 
the  Denmans." 

"  It  will  lead  you  then  to  the  mystery  of  Clara's 
death  ? " 

"  Yes." 


CHAPTER    VII. 

CHURM'S  STORY. 

CHURM  took  refuge  with  his  cigar  for  a  mo 
ment. 

"  Twenty-four  years  ago,"  he  began,  jerking 
his  short  sentences  away  as  if  each  was  an  arrow 
in  his  heart,  — "  twenty-four  years  ago  I  was 
a  young  man  about  New  York.  There  came  a 
beautiful  girl  from  the  country.  Poor  !  She  had 
rich  friends  in  town.  They  wanted  a  flower  for 
their  parlors.  They  took  her.  Emma  —  Emma 
Page  was  her  name." 

He  repeated  the  name,  as  if  it  was  barbed,  and 
would  not  come  from  him  without  an  agonized 
effort. 

"  She  charmed  all,"  he  continued.  "  She  fas 
cinated  me.  Strangely,  strangely.  I  will  not 
analyze  her  power.  You  will  see  what  knowl 
edge  it  implied.  I  was  a  simple,  eager  fellow. 
Eager  to  love,  as  you  are." 

"  /  only  said  willing"  I  interjected. 

"  The  wish  soon  ripens  to  frenzy.  Presently 
the  lady  and  I  were  betrothed.  I  was  a  passion- 


90  CECIL   DREEME. 

ate  lover.  You.  would  not  think  it  to  look  at  me 
now,  with  this  coat  and  these  clodhopper  shoes." 
He  forced  a  smile. 

"  Shaggy  jackets  and  thick  shoes  with  an  or 
chestral  creak  are  de  rigueur  for  lovers  now," 
rejoined  I,  trying  to  lighten  the  growing  gloom 
of  Churm's  manner. 

"We  wore  smooth  black,  and  paper  soles," 
said  he.  "  Ah,  well !  I  was  a  loyal,  undoubting 
heart.  I  loved  and  I  trusted  wholly." 

He  paused,  and  drew  his  cigar  to  a  fresh  light. 
Then,  as  he  remained  silent  and  grew  moodier,  I 
recalled  him  to  the  subject,  and  asked,  "You 
lost  her  ?  By  death  ?  " 

"  By  death,  Byng  ?  Yes,  by  the  death  of  my 
love.  She  stabbed  it.  Shall  I  tell  you  how? 
Poor  child  !  one  single  poisoned  look  of  hers,  one 
single  phrase  that  proved  a  tainted  nature,  stabbed 
and  poisoned  my  love  dead,  dead,  dead." 

Again  he  was  silent.     Pity  would  not  let  me 


"  This  may  seem  disloyalty,"  he  by  and  by  re 
sumed.  "  But  she  is  dead  and  pardoned  long 
ago.  I  must  be  loyal  to  the  living.  You  may 
run  the  risk  I  ran.  I  give  to  you,  to  you  only, 
to  you  peculiarly,  the  warning  of  my  misery.  If 
you  are  ever  harmed  as  I  was,  you  will  owe  the 
same  to  your  son,  or  your  friend." 

I  was   full   of  youthful,  unshaken   self-conn- 


CECIL  DREEME.  91 

dence.  I  saw  no  danger,  anticipated  no  wound. 
I  could  not  make  the  personal  application 
Churm  suggested.  I  listened,  greatly  touched 
and  interested,  but  without  foreboding. 

"A  look  and  a  word,"  Churm  began  again, 
"  seemed  to  flash  upon  me  the  conviction  that 
the  woman  I  loved  was  sullied.  A  foul-minded 
man  may  do  foul  wrong  by  such  a  fancy.  My 
mind  was  pure.  My  first  impulse  was  to  rebel 
against  the  agonizing  doubt,  and  be  truer  and 
tenderer  than  before.  You  comprehend  the  feel- 
ing?" 

"  Thoroughly.     Your  impulse  would  be  mine." 

"  <  Love,'  "  said  I  to  myself,  "  <  tests  love,'  " 
Churm  continued.  "  c  I  mistrust,  because  I  do  not 
love  enough.  I  must  beware  of  being  personally 
base  and  cruelly  unjust  to  her.  My  suspicion 
shall  be  the  evanescent  dream  of  an  unwhole 
some  instant,  —  like  Ophelia's  song.'  But  still 
the  anguish  and  the  dread  stayed  in  my  heart. 
What  could  I  do  ?  Wait  ?  Watch  ?  Make  my 
self  a  spy  to  examine  this  seeming  sully,  and  find 
it  an  indelible  stain  ?  Uncover  the  bad  side  of 
my  nature,  apply  it  to  hers,  and  study  the  kind 
and  degree  of  the  electricity  evoked  by  the  con 
tact  !  Should  I  protect  myself  by  any  such  base- 
ness  ?  While  these  thoughts  were  tangling  in  my 
brain,  an  outer  force  cut  the  knot." 

"  Some  one  spilt  the  philter,"  said  I,  thinking 
of  the  scene  over  Densdeth's  wine. 


92  CECIL  DREEME. 

"  Denman  was  my  unconscious  ally,"  Churm 
continued,  without  noticing  the  interruption. 
"  Denman  saved  me  from  the  worst,  the  bitterest 
fate  that  can  befall  a  true  man,  —  to  marry  a 
woman  whose  truth  and  purity  he  can  allow  him 
self  to  doubt." 

"  Bitter  indeed  !  A  blight  of  all  the  bloom 
and  harvest  of  a  life  !  "  said  I ;  —  so  fancy  had 
taught  me. 

"  Ah,  yes !  as  the  £  marriage  of  true  minds '  alone 
gives  fragrance  and  ripeness.  I  have  missed  the 
harvest,  I  escaped  the  blight.  Denman,  rich  and 
handsome,  with  life  clear  before  him,  came  back 
from  Europe.  Wealth  had  illusions  for  Emma 
Page.  She  was  new  to  it.  I  was  not  poor ;  but 
my  wealth  was  only  in  posse ." 

"  Few  divine  a  young  man's  posse,  I  fear,"  said 
I,  as  he  paused  to  whiff. 

"  Posse  must  be  put  into  a  pipe  and  blown  into 
an  illustrious  bubble,  before  the  world  perceives 
the  esse"  he  rejoined.  "  But  inventive  power  is 
the  best  capital.  Mine  has  made  me  far  richer 
than  Denman.  Well ;  he  arrived  at  the  moment 
of  my  agonizing  doubt.  Miss  Page  was  The 
Beauty  of  our  day.  He  was  charmed.  His 
cruder  vision  admired  the  rose  and  did  not  miss 
the  dew-drop.  She  presently  allowed  me  to  per 
ceive  that  he  was  to  be  my  substitute.  I  will  not 
tire  you  with  the  detail  of  the  stranding  and 
wreck  of  our  engagement." 


CECIL   DREEME.  93 

"  No  ?  "  said  I.  "  I  begin  to  identify  myself 
strangely  with  your  story." 

"  No.  No  detail !  To  recall  talks  and  looks 
and  tones  would  be  more  tragedy  than  I  could 
bear,  even  to  make  my  story  sharper.  So  our 
engagement  ended.  That  slight  perfidy  was  noth 
ing.  My  wrong  was  deeper." 

"  Ah,  poor  Emma  !  "  he  continued,  "  forgiven 
long  ago !  That  stain  of  hers,  whether  it  were 
taint  of  being,  or  fault  of  nurture,  or  rash  or 
sober  sin,  killed  faith  and  hope  in  me  for  a  time." 

He  paused  again,  and  the  blank  seemed  to 
symbolize  a  blank  in  his  life. 

"  It  was  a  wide  gulf  to  swim  over,"  he  said. 
"  Dark  waters,  Robert !  Dark  and  broad  !  and  I 
have  seen  many  souls  of  men  and  women  drown, 
that  had  not  force  to  buffet  through,  or  patience 
to  drift  across.  But  I  escaped,  and,  having  paid 
the  price  of  suffering  without  despair,  the  larger 
hopes  and  higher  faiths  were  revealed  to  me." 

He  struck  aside  the  smoke  with  a  strong,  swim 
mer's  gesture  of  the  arm,  —  a  forceful  character, 
as  even  his  motions  showed. 

"  This  is  sacred  confidence,  Robert,"  he  said. 
"  I  give  it  to  you,  as  a  father  warning  a  son." 

"  And  as  a  son  I  take  and  treasure  it." 

"  Denman,"  Churm  went  on,  "  did  not  mind 
the  wrong  he  might  have  been  doing  me,  had  my 
love  not  already  perished.  Denman  never  heeds 


94  CECIL   DREEME. 

any  one  between  him  and  his  object.  He  looks 
at  the  prospect ;  what  is  the  fly  on  the  pane  to 
him  ?  He  has  been  walking  over  others  all  his 
life,  trampling  them  if  they  lifted  up  their  heads. 
But  a  selfish  man  gets  himself  sent  first  to  Cov 
entry,  and  then,  if  he  does  not  mend,  to  St.  Hel 
ena.  Denman,  a  great  merchant  by  inheritance, 
has  gained  money-power  at  the  cost  of  moral 
weight.  Our  best  men  look  coldly  on  him.  He 
knows  it,  and  grasps  at  bigger  wealth  to  crush 
criticism.  It  is  the  old  story,  —  vaulting  ambi 
tion,  the  Russian  campaign.  Denman's  gigantic 
schemes  are  the  terror,  the  wonder,  and  the  ad 
miration  of  Wall  Street.  But  he  seems  to  a  cool 
student  a  desperate  man.  It  saddens  me  to 
meet  him  now,  —  aged,  worn,  anxious,  hardly 
daring  to  look  me  in  the  face,  and,  as  I  fear, 
wholly  in  the  power  of  Densdeth." 

"  Densdeth  !  "  cried  I.  "  Who  and  what  is 
Densdeth?  Does  he  hold  every  man's  leading- 
strings  to  the  Devil  ?  " 

"  What  is  Densdeth  ?  My  story  will  give  you 
a  fact  or  two  in  answer  to  the  question.  I  go  on 
with  it  rapidly. 

"  Emma  Page  married  Denman. 

"  She  tried  splendor  for  a  year.  She  was  the 
beautiful  wife  of  the  richest  young  man  in  town. 

"  At  the  year's  end,  her  daughter  Emma  was 
born. 


CECIL   DREEME. 


95 


"  A  child  is  a  terrible  vengeance  to  a  mother 
who  has  ever  lowered  her  womanhood,  by  thought 
or  act.  What  tortures  she  would  have  endured, 
—  so  she  now  too  late  thinks,  —  if  she  could 
have  purged  and  made  anew  the  nature  she  has 
transmitted  to  an  innocent  being !  But  there  it 
lies  before  her  in  the  cradle,  the  embodiment  of 
her  inmost  thought.  There  lies  the  heir,  and  the 
waste  of  his  heritage  is  irreclaimable." 

"  Don't  be  so  cruelly  stern,"  said~  I.  "  You 
out-Herod  Herod,  in  the  converse.  You  massa 
cre  the  Innocents  because  they  are  guilty.  This 
is  the  old  dead  dogma  of  original  sin,  redivivus 
and  rampant." 

"  No  ;  the  dogma  is  dead,  and  science  handles 
the  facts  without  the  trammels  of  an  impious 
theory.  Life  cures,  and  Death  renews.  But  Life 
should  be  a  feast,  not  a  medicine. 

"  Emma's  birth,"  he  continued,  "  transformed 
Mrs.  Denman.  For  a  year  she  was  a  faithful 
mother. 

"  Denman  did  not  like  his  wife  so  well  in  this 
capacity.  They  diverged  widely.  To  be  hand 
some  for  him  and  showy  for  the  public  was  his 
notion  of  Mrs.  Denman's  office.  The  second 
year  flowed  rough. 

"  At  the  end  of  it,  Clara  was  born,  the  child 
of  a  woman  chastened  and  purified. 

"  A  fortnight  after  her  birth,  Denman  came  to 
me. 


96  CECIL   DREEME. 

"  '  My  wife  is  desperately  ill,'  said  he.  '  She 
wishes  to  see  you.' 

"  I  went  calmly  to  this  farewell  interview  with 
my  old  love.  The  husband  seemed  to  abdicate 
in  my  behalf. 

" '  I  am  to  die,'  she  said,  almost  gayly.  '  I 
have  sent  for  you,  because  I  trust  you  wholly. 
Dear  friend,  here  are  my  daughters !  Befriend 
them  for  my  sake !  I  feel  that  you  will  under 
stand  the  yearnings  of  young  souls.  Make  them 
what  you  once  hoped  of  me !  Will  you  not  be 
the  father  of  their  spiritual  life  ?  Forgive  me, 
dear  friend,  for  the  old  wrong,  for  the  old 
wrongs !  Prove  that  you  have  pardoned  me  by 
loving  mine.  Good-bye.' " 

Churm  was  silent  awhile. 

He  lighted  a  fresh  cigar  and  smoked  steadily. 
The  smoke  lifted  slowly  in  the  still  room,  and 
hung  in  wreaths  overhead.  He  sat  looking 
vaguely  into  the  shifting  cloud. 


CHAPTER    VIII. 

CLARA  DENMAN,  DEAD. 

I  WATCHED  Churm,  as  he  smoked. 

Love,  disloyalty,  penitence,  death,  —  were  these 
all  unrealities,  that  he  could  speak  of  them  in  his 
own  history  so  calmly  ?  Could  a  man  be  hurt  as 
he  had  been,  and  overlive  unscarred?  I  had 
heard  cool  men  say,  that  "  the  tragedies  of  this 
life  become  the  comedies  of  another,  and  that  we 
should  some  time  smile  to  recall  our  cruellest 
battles  here,  as  now  we  smile  to  watch  the  jousts 
of  flies  in  a  sunbeam."  Churm's  tragedy  was 
still  tragedy  to  him.  He  had  begun  to  recite  it 
with  evident  pain.  But  the  pain  of  his  tone  be 
came  indifference  before  he  closed  ;  and  now  he 
sat  there  smoking,  as  if  he  had  related  gravely, 
but  without  emotion,  the  mishaps  of  some  stran 
ger. 

I  wondered. 

He  looked  through  the  smoke,  caught  my 
wondering  eye,  smiled  soberly,  and  said  :  "  Such 
an  experience  as  I  have  described  is  like  a  shirt 
of  Nessus,  which  one  wears  until  the  prickles  of 

5  G 


98  CECIL   DREEME. 

its  poisoned  serge  have  thoroughly  toughened  his 
skin.  When  it  ceases  to  gall,  he  strips  it  off  and 
hangs  it  by  the  highway  for  whoever  runs  to 
take ;  or  if  he  finds  some  sensitive  friend,  like 
you,  Robert,  he  lays  it  upon  his  shoulders,  and 
says,  4  "Wear  this  !  The  edge  of  its  torture  is 
gone.  It  will  harden  you  for  the  garment  the 
Fates  are  weaving  for  you.' ' 

"  Dear  me  !  "  said  I,  shrugging  my  shoulders. 
"  Have  I  got  to  stand  haircloth  and  venom  ? 
Well,  if  that  is  the  common  lot,  and  I  cannot 
escape,  I  am  much  obliged  to  you  for  trying  to 
make  me  pachydermatous.  But  you  have  not 
succeeded  very  well.  The  story  of  another's  pain 
makes  my  heart  softer." 

"  Sympathy  for  others  is  stout  armor  for  one's 
self.  But,  Byng,  you  have  heard  the  first  trage 
dy  of  the  series ;  listen  to  the  second  !  " 

"  The  second  !  Is  there  a  third  ?  Is  the  series 
a  trilogy  ?  " 

"  The  third  is  unwritten.  The  march  of  events 
has  paused  while  Densdeth  was  off.  And  to-day 
he  steps  from  behind  the  curtain  with  you,  a  new 
character,  half  inclined  to  be  his  satellite.  Per 
haps  you  have  a  part  to  play." 

There  was  a  vein  of  seriousness  in  this  seem 
ing  banter. 

"  Perhaps  !  "  said  I,  puffing  a  ring  of  smoke 
away.  "  But  pray  go  on.  I  am  eager  to  hear 
the  whole." 


CECIL   DREEME.  99 

"  After  his  wife's  death,  Denman  said  to  me, 
<  Mr.  Churm,  Emma  told  me  that  you  were  will 
ing,  for  old  friendship's  sake,  to  give  an  eye  to  my 
two  poor  girls'  education.  Suppose  you  take  the 
whole  responsibility  off  my  hands.  I  will  make 
their  million  apiece  for  them.  You  shall  teach 
them  how  to  spend  it.'  I  gladly  accepted  this 
godfatherly  post.  The  girls  became  to  me  as  my 
own  children. 

"  I  shall  say  nothing  to  you,"  Churm  here 
interjected,  "  of  Emma." 

«  Why  not  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  You  will  see  her.  Judge  for  yourself ! 
Clara  you  will  never  see.  Of  her  I  will  speak. 
But  first  what  do  you  remember  of  the  sisters  ?  " 

"  They  were  my  pets  when  I  was  a  school-boy. 
Emma  I  recollect  as  a  lovely,  fascinating,  caress 
ing  little  thing.  Clara  was  shy  and  jealous,  full 
of  panics  that  people  disliked  her  for  her  ugliness. 
I  might  have  almost  forgotten  them,  except  for  a 
sweet,- simple,  girlish  letter  they  jointly  wrote  me 
upon  my  father's  death.  It  touched  me  greatly." 

"  I  remember,"  said  Churm.  "  Clara  con 
sulted  me  as  to  its  propriety.  Dear  child ! 
sympathy  always  swept  away  her  reserve.  But 
you  speak  of  her  ugliness,  Robert  ?  " 

"  She  was  original,  unexpected ;  but  certainly 
without  beauty.  In  fact,  ugly  and  awkward, 
beside  Emma." 


100  CECIL   DREEME. 

"  She  became  beautiful  to  me  by  the  light  that 
was  in  her.  I  could  not  criticise  the  medium 
through  which  shone  so  fair  a  soul.  She  edu 
cated  me  ;  not  I  her.  She  illuminated  for  me 
the  new  truths,  she  interpreted  the  new  oracles ; 
and  so  I  have  not  fallen  old  and  staid  among 
my  rudiments,  as  childless  men,  with  the  best 
intentions,  may." 

"  You  give  me,"  said  I,  "  a  feeling  of  per 
sonal  want  and  personal  robbery  by  her  death." 

"  Fresh,  earnest,  unflinching  soul !  "  Churm 
sadly  continued.  "  How  she  flashed  out  of 
being  all  the  false  laws  that  check  the  mind's 
divine  liberty !  Not  the  laws  of  refinement  and 
high-breeding ;  they,  the  elastic  by-laws  of  the 
fundamental  law  of  love,  are  easy  harness  to 
the  freest  soul.  In  another  house  than  Den- 
man's,  among  allies,  not  foes,  what  a  noble  poem 
her  life  would  have  been ! " 

"Foes!"  said  I.  "Was  there  no  love  for 
her  at  home  ?  " 

"  Denman  admired  his  daughters.  Love  re 
mains  latent  in  him.  He  has  not  outgrown 
his  passion  for  the  grosser  fictions,  wealth,  power, 
show." 

"  But  Emma !  The  two  sisters  did  not  love 
one  another  ?  If  not,  where  was  the  fault  ?  " 

"  Nature  ,made  them  dissonant." 

"  Their  foster-father  could  not  harmonize 
them?" 


CECIL  DREEME.  101 

"  I  did  my  best,  Byng.  But  young  women 
need  a  mother.  I  suppose  the  mothers  in  so 
ciety  shrug  up  their  shoulders,  when  they  talk 
of  Clara's  disappearance  and  death,  and  say, 
'  What  could  you  expect  of  a  young  person, 
whose  nurse,  governess,  and  chaperon  was  that 
odd  Mr.  Churm?'" 

"  You  were  absent  when  she  disappeared  ?  " 

"  Away  from  my  post.  In  England.  On  some 
patent  business." 

"  Pity !  " 

"  I  curse  myself  when  I  think  of  it.  About 
this  misery,  Robert,  I  have  not  learned  to  be 
calm." 

"  You  did  not  approve  her  proposed  marriage 
with  Densdeth,  —  that  I  am  sure." 

"  I  knew  nothing  of  it." 

"  What !  your  ward,  your  child,  did  not  write, 
did  not  consult  you  on  so  grave  a  matter  ?  " 

"  Her  letters  had  been  constant.  They  sud 
denly  ceased.  Her  last  had  been  a  pleading 
cry  to  me  to  succor  her  father  against  his  grow 
ing  intimacy  with  Densdeth.  I  wrote  that  I 
would  despatch  my  business,  and  hasten  home. 
I  never  heard  again.  There  was  foul  play." 

"  Suppression  of  letters  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  or  I  was  belied  to  her." 

"  Such  a  woman  would  not  lightly  abandon 
a  faith." 


102  CECIL  DREEME. 

"  Only  some  villanous  treason  could  destroy 
her  faith  in  me.  And  such  I  do  not  doubt 
there  has  been.  I  make  no  loose  charges.  But 
why  was  I  kept  in  the  dark  ?  " 

"  No  rumor  of  the  marriage  reached  you  ?  " 

"  A  rumor  merely.  Do  you  know  Van 
Beester  ?  " 

"  That  banking  snob  who  tries  to  be  a  swell  ? 
a  fellow  who  talks  pro-slavery  and  fancies  it 
aristocracy  ?  Yes ;  I  was  bored  with  him  once 
at  a  dinner  in  Paris." 

"  Van  Beester  was  put  in  my  state-room  on 
board  the  steamer  when  I  returned.  He  had 
been  in  England,  consummating  a  railroad  job. 
The  old  story.  Eight  per  cent  third  mortgage 
bonds,  convertible.  Enormous  land  grant.  Road 
running  over  Noman's  Land  into  Nowhere.  One 
of  Densdeth's  schemes.  Penman  also  had  an 
interest." 

"  A  swindle  ?   Something  Muddefontaineish  ?  " 

"0  no  !  Noman's  Land,  the  day  the  road 
was  done,  would  become  Everybody's  Farm.  No 
where  would  back  into  the  wilderness.  Up  would 
sprout  the  metropolis  of  Somewhere.  Swindle, 
Robert  ?  Your  term  is  crude." 

"  I  suppose  Yan  Beester  did  not  offer  it  to  the 
English  gudgeons  under  that  name." 

"  It  was  a  mighty  pretty  bait  for  them,  —  two 
millions  in  savory  portions,  a  thousand  each.  I 


CECIL  DREEME.  103 

forget  whether  some  large  gudgeon's  gills  had 
taken  the  whole  at  one  gulp ;  or  whether  a  shoal 
of  small  fry  had  nibbled  the  worms  off  the  bob. 
But  the  whole  loan  had  been  stomached  in  Lon 
don,  and  Yan  Beester  was  going  home  in  high 
feather." 

"  A  blatant  nuisance,  of  course.  And  you 
could  not  abate  or  escape  him." 

"  No ;  unless  I  shoved  him  through  our  port 
hole,  or  slipped  through  myself.  Densdeth  was 
the  man's  hero.  He  could  never  talk  without 
parading  Densdeth.  *  Such  talents  for  finance  ! ' 
he  would  exclaim.  '  Such  knowledge  of  men  ! 
Such  a  versatile  genius !  Billiards  or  banking, 
all  one  to  him !  Never  loses  a  bet ;  never  fails 
in  a  project !  Such  a  glass  of  fashion  !  Such  a 
favorite  with  the  fair  sex  ! ' : 

"  Pah  !  *  Fair  sex  ! '  I  can  fancy  the  loath 
some  fellow's  look  and  tone,"  I  exclaimed. 

"  Then,  in  a  pause  of  his  sea-sickness,"  Churm 
continued,  "  he  spoke  of  the  Denmans.  '  Mr. 
Denman  so  princely !  Daughters  so  charming ! 
For  his  part  he  admired  Emma,'  —  '  Emma,'  the 
scrub  called  her.  l  But  then  there  was  some 
thing  very  attractive,  very  exciting,  about  Clara, 
and  he  did  n't  wonder  that  Densdeth  had  selected 
her,  —  lucky  girl ! '  '  What  do  you  mean  ?  '  cried 
I,  appalled.  <  Don't  you  know  ?  '  said  the  fellow, 
chuckling  over  his  bit  of  fashionable  intelligence. 


104  CECIL   DBEEME. 

'  I  have  it  from  the  best  authority,  Densdeth  him 
self.  Here  is  his  letter.  I  got  it  the  morning 
we  sailed.  He  is  to  be  married  the  twenty-third. 
Blow,  breezes !  and  we  shall  get  there  in  time  for 
the  wedding.' ' 

"  You  could  interpret  her  pleading  cry,  now," 
said  I. 

"  I  seem  to  hear  it  repeated  in  every  blast : 
1  Help,  dear  friend,  dear  father,  —  for  my  moth 
er's  sake  ! '  A  maddening  voyage  that  was  !  Dark 
waters,  Robert !  I  shall  hate  the  insolent  monot 
ony  of  ocean  all  my  days.  I  could  do  nothing 
but  walk  the  deck  and  tally  the  waves,  or  stand 
over  the  engine  and  count  the  turns." 

"  People  would  laugh  at  a  fellow  of  my  age," 
said  I,  "  for  such  conduct.  It  is  lover-like." 

"  I  loved  Clara,  as  if  she  were  spirit  of  my 
spirit.  When  the  pilot  boarded  us,  before  dawn 
on  the  twenty-third,  I  was  up  chafing  about  the 
ship.  He  handed  me  his  newspaper.  The  first 
thing  I  saw  was  Clara  Denman's  name  among 
the  deaths." 

"  Cruel !  "  exclaimed  I. 

"  I  thanked  God  for  it.  Better  death  than 
that  marriage  ! " 

"  There  is  still  something  incomprehensible  to 
me  in  your  horror  of  Densdeth.  I  only  half  feel 
it  myself ;  Stillfleet  more  than  half  feels  it.  What 
is  it  ?  What  is  he  ?  " 


CECIL  DREEME.  105 

"  We  will  talk  of  him  another  time,"  Churm 
replied.  "  Now  I  must  hasten  on.  I  found,  as 
I  said,  Clara's  name  among  the  deaths,  and  inside 
the  paper  a  confused  story  of  her  disappearance 
and  drowning. 

*'  I  was  so  eager  to  hear  more,  that  I  smug 
gled  myself  ashore  in  the  health-officer's  gig, 
and  took  the  quarantine  ferry-boat  to  town, 
for  speed.  While  I  was  looking  for  a  hack  at 
the  South  Ferry,  the  return  coaches  of  a  funeral 
to  Greenwood  drove  oif  a  boat  just  come  into  the 
slip. 

"  In  the  foremost  coach  I  saw  the  Denmans 
and  Densdeth. 

"  I  pulled  open  the  door  and  sprang  in. 

"  I  can  never  forget  Denman's  look  when  he 
saw  me.  He  blenched  and  shrank  into  his  corner 
of  the  carriage,  cowed. 

"  There  sat  Densdeth,  colorless  and  impassive, 
opposite  me.  By  my  side  was  Emma,  weeping 
under  a  heavy  veil,  and  Denman,  with  a  mean 
and  guilty  look,  beside  her. 

" i  It  is  not  my  fault,'  Denman  said,  feebly 
stretching  out  both  his  hands,  as  if  he  expected 
a  blow  from  me.  4 1  acted  for  the  best,  as  I 
thought,  so  help  me  God ! ' 

"  Densdeth  interposed.  His  smooth,  cool  man 
ner  always  puts  roughness  in  the  wrong. 

" c  This  is  a  sad  pleasure,  Mr.  Churm,'  said 

5* 


106  CECIL  DREEME. 

lie.  'If  we  had  looked  for  your  return,  we  would 
have  deferred  this  sorrowful  ceremony.' 

"  '  Denman  ! '  said  I. 

He  started,  and  held  out  his  hands  in  vague 
terror. 

"  '  Denman  ! '  I  repeated.  t  Here  has  been 
some  crime.  What  have  you  done  with  that 
innocent  girl  ?  Who  or  what  murdered  her  ?  ' 

"  '  No,'  said  he,  drearily.  4  She  is  dead.  That 
is  bitter  enough.  Not  murdered !  0,  not  mur 
dered  !  Do  not  be  so  harsh  with  an  old  friend  ! ' 

"  '  Denman,'  said  I,  *  an  older  friend  than  you 
committed  her  daughter  into  my  hands  on  her 
death-bed.  In  her  name  I  accuse  you.  I  say, 
you  have  tried  to  crowd  this  poor  child  into  a 
marriage  she  abhorred.  I  say  you  drove  her  to 
death.  I  say  you  murdered  her,  —  you  and 
Densdeth.' 

"  He  gave  me  a  dull  look,  —  a  pitiful  look,  for 
that  proud,  stately  man,  —  and  turned  appeal- 
ingly  to  his  supporter. 

" '  Mr.  Churm,'  said  Densdeth,  <  it  is  not  like 
you  to  talk  in  this  hasty  way.  I  refuse  to  be 
insulted.  My  own  distress  shows  me  how  the 
shock  may  have  unbalanced  you.  But  this  heat 
and  these  baseless  charges  are  poor  sympathy  for 
a  parent,  a  sister,  and  a  betrothed,  coming  from 
the  funeral  of  one  dear  to  them.  Is  it  manly, 
Mr.  Clmrm,  to  assail  us  ?  I  appeal  to  your  real 


CECIL   DEEEME.  107 

generosity  not  to  sharpen  our  grief  by  such  cru 
elty.' 

"  Of  course  he  was  right.  I  was  a  brute  if 
they  were  not  guilty.  I  was  silenced,  not  sat 
isfied. 

"  Densdeth  went  on,  with  thorough  self-pos 
session.  The  man's  olive  skin  is  a  mask  to  him. 

"  '  You  have  a  right,  Mr.  Churm,'  said  he, '  to 
hear  all  the  facts  of  Clara's  death.  I  will  state 
them.  Ten  days  ago  she  took  a  sharp  fever  from 
a  cold.  One  afternoon  she  became  a  little  light 
headed.  But  at  evening  she  was  doing  well,  and 
in  such  a  healthy,  quiet  sleep  that  we  thought  she 
needed  no  watching.  Indeed,  we  believed  her 
recovered  from  the  trifling  attack.  In  the  morn 
ing  she  was  gone,  —  gone,  and  left  no  clew.  We 
instantly  organized  search,  with  all  the  care  that 
the  tenderest  affection  could  suggest.' 

"  '  Yes,  yes !  we  did  our  best ! '  Denman  eager 
ly  interrupted. 

" '  Four  days  ago,'  continued  Densdeth  with 
out  pause,  c  her  body  was  found,  floated  ashore 
on  Staten  Island.  It  was  disfigured  by  the 
chances  of  drowning,  but  there  were  no  marks 
of  injury  before  death.  She  was  fully  identified. 
We  suppose,  and  the  doctor  concurs,  that  at 
night  her  fever  and  light-headedness  returned, 
that  she  left  the  house,  strayed  toward  the  river, 
fell  from  some  dock,  and  was  drowned.' 


108  CECIL  DREEME. 

"  Denman  shivered  as  Deiisdeth  concluded  his 
curt,  business-like  statement. 

"  '  Yes,  yes,  Churm  ! '  said  he  again.  '  I  did 
my  best.  Do  not  say  murder,  again !  Do  not 
be  so  harsh  with  an  old  friend  !  Tell  him,  Dens- 
deth,  tell  him  how  we  spent  care  and  time  and 
money  to  recover  the  poor  child.  Do  not  let 
him  think  anything  was  neglected/ 

"  He  looked  feebly  from  Densdeth  to  me. 
Then  he  turned  to  his  daughter. 

"  '  Speak,  Emma ! '  said  he,  almost  peevishly. 
1  Why  do  you  not  help  justify  your  father  ? 
Tell  Mr.  Churm  that  your  sister's  death  is  only 
a  misery,  no  fault  of  ours.' 

"  Emma  made  no  reply,  but  sobbed  uncon 
trollably  behind  her  veil." 

"  Poor  girl !  "  I  interjected,  as  Churm  paused 
to  look  at  his  watch.  "  A  dark  beginning  of 
life  for  her  !  I  pity  her  most  tenderly." 

"  It  is  almost  eleven,"  said  Churm.  "  I  must 
go  to  my  patient,  Towner,  without  delay.  And 
now  I  can  say  to  you,  that  I  believe  he  knows 
something  of  Clara's  tragedy.  When  he  speaks, 
I  shall  learn  where  the  guilt  lies." 

"  You  suspect  guilt  then  ?  "  I  asked.  "  The 
facts  do  not  satisfy  you  ?  Have  you  a  theory 
on  the  subject  ?  " 

"  I  have  no  doubt  the  final  facts  are  as  Dens 
deth  gave  them.  But  what  are  the  precedent 


CECIL   DREEME.  109 

facts?  What  crazed  my  child?  What  un 
balanced  her  healthy  organization  of  mind  and 
body  ?  No  trifling  influenza.  No  bashful  bridal 
panic  of  a  girl.  No,  Byng ;  among  them,  they 
had  hurt  her  heart  and  soul.  There  is  the 
murder !  Her  father  I  believe  to  be  in  Dens- 
deth's  power." 

"  How  ?  "   I  asked. 

"  How  I  can  only  divine  from  parallel  cases. 
Penman  has  perhaps  overstepped  honesty  to 
clutch  wealth.  Densdeth  knows  it.  Densdeth 
has  said,  i  Give  me  your  daughter,  or  be  posted 
as  a  rogue  ! '  Denman  has  made  the  common 
mistake,  that,  if  he  could  elude  the  shame  of  de 
tection,  he  would  escape  the  remorse  of  guilt." 

"  So  they  took  advantage  of  your  absence  to 
use  quasi  force  with  the  lady  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  and  they  belied  me,  or  Clara  would 
have  awaited  my  protection.  Ah,  Robert,  I 
dread  some  crushing  infamy  was  revealed  to 
her  in  that  house.  No  common  shame,  no  com 
mon  sorrow,  would  have  maddened  her  to  wan 
der  off  and  die.  And  now  good  night,  Robert ! 
Keep  this  tragedy  in  mind  —  in  both  its  parts. 
One  such  story,  well  meditated  with  the  char 
acters  in  view,  may  be  the  one  needful  lesson 
and  warning  of  a  life.  And  let  the  whole  be 
a  sacred  confidence  with  you  alone ! " 

"  It  shall  be.     Good  night." 


110  CECIL   DREEME. 

He  wrung  my  hand  and  went  out. 

Let  me  recall  him  as  he  turns  away. 

A  sturdy,  not  clumsy,  man  of  middle  height ; 
fair  skin,  ruddy,  not  too  red ;  nose  resolute,  not 
despotic ;  firm  upper  lip,  gentle  lower ;  glance 
keen,  not  astute,  nor  vulpine ;  expression  calm, 
not  cold ;  smile  humorous  and  sympathetic ; 
voice  and  laugh  of  the  heart,  hearty ;  a  thor 
oughly  lovable  man,  —  the  man  of  all  others 
to  be  husband  and  father. 

Besides,  a  man  of  vast  ability  and  scope.  Na 
ture  seemed  to  have  no  secrets  from  him.  He 
handled  the  mechanic  forces,  he  wielded  social 
forces,  with  the  same  masterly  grasp.  Wher 
ever  civilization  went,  it  bore  his  name  as  an 
inventor,  an  organizer  and  benefactor  to  man 
kind.  He  was  skill,  order,  and  love. 

And  yet  he  lived  alone  and  weary ;  his  life, 
as  he  had  told  me  to-night,  all  desolated  by 
the  shadow  of  a  sin. 


CHAPTER    IX. 

LOCKSLEY'S  SCARE. 

CHURM'S  steps  went  echoing  along  the  corridor, 
echoing  down  the  stairs.  The  front  door  of 
Chrysalis  clanged  to  after  him.  Rumbling  echoes 
of  the  clang  marched  to  and  fro  along  the  halls, 
and  fumbled  for  quiet  nooks  in  the  dark  distances 
of  the  building.  There  I  could  hear  them  lie 
down  to  repose,  and  whisper, '  Silence.' 

Silence  and  sleep  reigned. 

I  was  little  disposed  to  sleep.  I  lighted  a  freksh 
cigar  and  fell  into  a  re  very. 

Why,  I  first  asked  myself,  had  Churm  so  urged 
the  history  of  his  unhappy  love  personally  upon 
me  ?  Why  was  he  so  earnest  and  emphatic  in 
his  warning  ?  The  two  tragedies  were  detached. 
He  might  have  simply  recalled  the  fact  of  his 
guardianship,  and  then  described  the  fate  of  his 
ward.  But  he  had  gone  back  and  forced  him 
self  to  uncover  his  wound,  —  why  ?  Not  for  my 
sympathy.  No ;  he  had  outlived  the  need  of 
sympathy.  Besides,  no  loyal  man  would  betray 
the  error  of  a  woman  once  loved,  for  pity's  sake. 


112  CECIL  DREEME. 

No;  some  strong  sense  of  duty  had  compelled 
him  to  take  a  father's  place,  and  say  to  me,  "  Be 
ware  ! " 

I  puzzled  myself  awhile,  inquiring,  What  did 
he  see  in  my  temperament  or  my  circumstances 
to  make  this  warning  needful  ?  No  solution  of 
the  question  came  to  me.  I  dismissed  the  sub 
ject,  and  thought  with  a  livelier  interest  over  the 
Denman  tragedy. 

I  began  to  perceive  how  much  I  had  uncon 
sciously  counted  upon  the  friendship  of  the  Den- 
mans.  It  was  a  rough  shock  to  learn  that  I  must 
doubt  of  Denman 's  thorough  worth.  He,  too, 
was  a  friend  of  my  father.  His  was  an  impor 
tant  figure  in  the  background  of  my  boyish 
recollections.  A  large,  handsome  man  I  remem 
bered  him,  a  little  conscious  in  his  bearing,  but 
courteous,  hospitable,  open-handed,  using  wealth 
splendidly,  —  in  fact,  my  ideal  of  what  a  rich 
man  should  be.  It  was  a  grave  disappointment 
to  me  to  be  forced  to  dismiss  this  personage,  and 
set  up  instead  in  my  mind  the  Denman  Churm 
had  described.  My  hero  was,  in  plain  words, 
a  rogue,  a  coward,  and  a  slave. 

I  perceived,  too,  that  half  unconsciously  I  had 
kept  alive  pretty  little  romantic  fancies  about 
Emma  and  Clara.  Living  so  many  years  in  Italy 
and  France,  among  women  with  minds  deflowered 
by  the  confessional,  and  among  the  homely  darn- 


CECIL  DREEME.  113 

sels  of  Germany,  I  was  eager  for  the  society  of 
fresh,  frank,  graceful,  girlish  girls  at  home.  The 
Denmans  had  often  visited  my  imagination,  com 
panions  of  my  sunniest  memories  of  childhood. 
The  earliest  pleasure  of  my  return  I  had  looked 
for  in  the  revival  of  this  intimacy.  But  now  I 
found  one  dead  mysteriously,  the  other's  life 
clouded  by  a  tragedy.  My  pretty  fancies  all 
perished. 

I  began  to  dread  my  interview  with  Emma 
Denman  to-morrow.  Densdeth  to  be  my  usher ! 

What  if  she,  like  her  father,  had  deteriorated 
under  Densdeth's  influence  ? 

To  cure  myself  of  this  sorry  thought,  I  looked 
up  among  my  treasures  the  letter  which  the  two 
girls  had  written  me  several  years  ago,  upon  my 
father's  death.  It  came  to  me  in  a  friendless, 
foreign  land,  one  desolate  summer,  while  I  was 
convalescing  from  an  attack  of  the  same  fever 
that  orphaned  me. 

Precious  little  childish  epistle,  now  yellow  with 
age  !  I  remembered  how  I  read  it,  slowly  and 
feebly,  one  sultry  Italian  day,  when  the  sluggish 
heat  lay  clogged  and  unrippled  in  the  streets  of 
the  furnace-like  city.  I  recalled  how  I  read  it, 
pausing  between  the  sentences,  and  feeling  each 
as  sweet  as  the  cool,  soothing  touch  of  the  hand 
of  love  on  a  throbbing  forehead. 

I  unfolded  the  letter,  and  re-read  it  reverently, 


114  CECIL   DREEME. 

and  with  a  certain  tragic  interest.  Clara  was  tho 
scribe.  These  were  her  quaint,  careful  characters, 
her  timid,  stiff,  serious,  affectionate  phrases. 

I  pictured  to  myself  the  two  girls  signing  this 
sisterly  missive,  blushing  perhaps  with  a  maid 
enly  shyness,  smiling  with  maidenly  confidence, 
sobered  by  their  gentle  sympathy  for  my  grief. 

Then,  with  a  sudden  shifting  of  the  scenes, 
there  came  up  before  me  a  picture  of  the  sad 
drama  so  lately  enacted  in  Mr.  Denman's  house. 
Clara  driven  to  madness  or  despair,  Emma  be 
reaved,  Denman  lost  to  self-respect,  Churm  be 
lied  ;  and  in  the  background  a  malignant  shadow, 
—  Densdeth. 

All  at  once  a  peremptory  knock  at  my  door 
disturbed  me. 

A  stout  knock,  thrice  repeated.  The  visitor 
meant  to  be  heard  and  answered. 

I  was  fresh  from  the  French  theatres,  where 
three  great  blows  behind  the  curtain  announce 
its  lifting. 

"  What !  "  thought  I,  «  does  the  drama  march  ? 
Is  a  new  act  beginning  ?  Am  I  playing  a  part  in 
the  Denman  trilogy  ?  And  what  new  character 
appears  at  midnight  in  the  dusky  halls  of  Chrys 
alis  ?  Who  follows  Densdeth  and  Churm  ?  Who 
precedes  Emma  Denman  ?  " 

I  opened  the  door,  wide  and  abruptly. 

Locksley  stood  there,  with  fist  uplifted  to  pound 


CECIL  DREEME.  115 

The  sudden  draught  put  out  his  candle.  The 
corridor  had  a  sombre,  mysterious  look. 

"  Come  in,"  said  I. 

"  Is  Mr.  Churm  here  ?  "  he  asked,  in  an  anx 
ious  tone. 

"  No  ;  he  left  me  at  eleven,  to  go  to  his  in 
valid,  down  town." 

"  I  hoped  to  catch  him.  I  wanted  his  advice 
very  much." 

He  looked  at  me  earnestly,  as  he  spoke,  as  if 
studying  my  face  for  a  solution  of  some  difficulty. 

"  Come  in  out  of  the  dark  and  cold  !  "  said  I. 

He  entered.  The  bristly  man  had  a  worried, 
doubtful  look,  quite  different  from  his  alert,  war 
like  expression  of  the  morning.  He  was  porcu 
pine  still,  but  porcupine  badly  badgered.  He 
glanced  nervously  about  the  room,  with  the  air 
of  one  excited  and  slightly  apprehensive.  The 
suit  of  armor  with  the  spiked  mace,  standing 
sentry  at  the  lumber-room  door,  gave  him  a  start. 

"  Empty  iron  !  "  said  I ;  "  and  he  can't  strike 
with  that  billy  he  holds." 

"  I  've  seen  the  old  machine  a  hundred  times," 
Locksley  rejoined.  "  It  only  jumped  me  because 
I  'm  all  on  end  with  worry." 

"  Can  I  help  ?  My  advice  is  at  your  service, 
if  it's  worth  having,  and  you  choose  to  trust  a 
stranger." 

"  0,  I  know  you  're  the   right  sort.      "We  've 


116  CECIL  DREEME. 

made  up  our  minds  about  that,  big  and  little, 
down  to  the  Janitory.  But  I  don't  want  to 
bother  you." 

"  Never  mind  !  What  is  the  trouble  ?  Bur 
glars  ?  Or  slow  fire  ? " 

"  Why,  you  see,  sir,"  said  Locksley,  "  I  'm  in 
considerable  of  a  scare  about  that  young  painter 
up-stairs." 

He  pointed  to  the  centre-piece  of  the  ara- 
besqued  ceiling.  I  looked  up,  almost  expecting 
to  see  a  pair  of  legs  dangling  through,  according 
to  my  fancy  of  the  afternoon. 

"  What  ?  "  said  I,  my  interest  wide  awake. 
"  The  one  overhead  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir." 

"  Mr.  Cecil  Dreeme  ?  I  saw  the  name  on  a 
card  above." 

"  Mr.  Cecil  Dreeme,  and  I  'm  afraid  some 
thing  's  come  to  him." 

"  Is  he  missing  ?  " 

"  No  ;  he  's  there.  But  I  have  n't  seen  him 
these  two  days.  Dora  went  up  with  his  break 
fast  this  morning,  and  with  his  dinner.  No  one 
answered  when  she  knocked.  I  've  just  been 
up,  and  hammered  a  dozen  thumps  on  his  door. 
I  could  n't  raise  a  sound  inside." 

Locksley's  voice  sank  to  an  anxious  whisper 
as  he  spoke. 

"  What  do  you  fear  ?  "  said  I. 


CECIL  DREEME.  117 

"Sickness  or  starvation,  —  one  of  them  I  'm 
afraid  has  come  to  him.  Or  perhaps  he's 
punying  away  for  want  of  open  air  and  sun 
shine,  and  some  friend  to  say  '  Hurrah  boys  ! '  to 
him." 

"  You  have  a  pass-key,  of  course ;  why  did  n't 
you  push  in  ?  " 

"  I  would  have  shoved  straight  through,  and 
seen  what  was  the  matter,  if  Mr.  Dreeme  had 
been  like  other  young  fellows.  But  he  is  n't. 
He  might  be  there  dying  alone,  and  I  should  n't 
like  to  interfere  on  my  own  hook,  against  his 
particular  orders  not  to  be  disturbed.  What  do 
you  say,  Mr.  Byng  ?  Suppose  it 's  a  case  of  life 
and  death,  —  shall  I  break  in?" 

"  It  is  a  delicate  matter  to  advise  upon.  A 
gentleman's  house  is  his  castle.  I  must  have 
my  facts  before  I  become  accomplice  to  a  bur 
glary.  What  do  you  know  of  Mr.  Dreeme's 
health  or  habits  to  make  you  anxious  ?  " 

"  Not  over  much.  But  more  than  any  one 
else." 

"  He  is  reserved  then  ?  "  My  curiosity  about 
the  name  was  increasing,  as  the  slight  mystery 
seemed  to  thicken. 

"  Reserved,  sir !  I  don't  believe  a  soul  in  the 
city  knows  a  word  of  him,  except  us  Locks- 
leys.  He  's  one  of  the  owl  kind." 

"  A  friendless  stranger,"  said  I,  recalling  my 


118  CECIL   DEEEME. 

fancies  of  the  afternoon,  by  his  door.  "  A  man 
with  the  shyness  and  jealousy  of  an  artist  await 
ing  recognition.  He  does  not  wish  to  be  known 
at  all  until  he  is  known  to  fame." 

"  That  sounds  like  it,  partly,"  Locksley  re 
turned.  "  But  there  must  be  other  reasons  for 
his  keeping  so  uncommon  dark." 

"What!    Poverty?    Creditors?    Crime?" 

"  Crime  and  Mr.  Dreeme  !  You  'd  drop  that 
notion,  if  you  saw  him.  Not  that !  No ;  nor 
poverty  exactly.  He  can  pay  his  omnibus  yet, 
and  need  n't  go  on  the  steps,  and  risk  a  'Cut 
behind.' " 

"  What  then  ?  "  I  asked,  unwilling  to  pry  dis 
loyally,  and  yet  eager  to  hear  more. 

"  I  suspicion  that  something  's  hit  him  where 
he  lives,  and  he 's  lying  by  till  the  wound 
heals.  I  know  how  a  man  feels  when  the 
world  's  mean  to  him.  He  wants  to  get  out 
of  sight,  and  hide  in  a  den  like  old  Chrysalis. 
That  was  the  way  with  me  when  I  failed,  and 
Mr.  Densdeth  put  up  my  creditors  not  to  let 
me  take  the  Stillwell.  I  was  mighty  near  hiding 
in  Hellgate." 

"  How  did  he  happen  to  shelter  in  Chrysa 
lis?"  I  asked. 

"I  shall  have  to  tell  you  all  the  little  I 
know.  I  've  halted  because  we  Locksleys  prom 
ised  Mr.  Dreeme  not  to  be  public  about  him. 


CECIL   DREEME.  119 

We  'vc  kept  it  close.  But  you  're  one  of  the 
kind,  Mr.  Byng,  that  a  man  naturally  wants 
to  open  his  self  to." 

"  I  'm  not  leaky ;  depend  upon  that !  " 

"  Well,"  said  Locksley,  fairly  uncorked  at  last, 
and  overrunning  with  his  story ;  "  Mr.  Dreeme 
came  in,  after  ten,  one  night  about  three  months 
ago,  and  says  he,  '  I  've  just  got  to  town  by 
the  late  train.  The  last  time  I  was  down,  I 
saw  the  card  out,  "  Studios  to  Let."  Will  you 
show  me  what  there  is  ?  '  '  Well,  says  I.'  4  It  's 
pretty  well  along  in  the  night  to  be  hiring  a 
studio!'  'Yes,'  says  he,  mild  as  you  please, 
but  knowing  his  own  mind  ;  *  but  I  've  got  to 
have  one.  I  'm  not  hard  to  satisfy,  and  if  I 
could  move  in  right  off,  I  should  save  the  money 
they  'd  take  from  me  at  the  Chuzzlewit,  or  some 
other  costly  hotel.'  c  You  're  not  so  flush  as 
you  'd  like  to  be,  perhaps,'  says  I.  '  No,'  says 
he,  '  if  flush  means  rich,  I  'm  not.' ': 

"  So  you  got  him  as  a  tenant,"  said  I,  trying 
to  hurry  the  narrator. 

"  Yes  ;  he  was  such  a  pleasant-spoken  young 
man  that  I  took  to  him.  Besides,  not  being 
flush  made  him  one  of  my  family,  —  and  a  big 
family  it  is  !  " 

"  We  must  not  forget,  Locksley,  that  while 
we  discuss,  he  may  be  suffering." 

"  That 's  true.      I  must  talk  short,  and  talk- 


120  CECIL   DREEME. 

ing  short  is  n't  natural  to  my  trade.  Filing 
iron  trains  a  man  to  be  slow,  just  as  hammer 
ing  iron  practises  him  to  bounce  his  words  like 
a  sledge  on  an  anvil.  Well ;  I  took  Mr.  Dreeme 
up-stairs,  and  showed  him  the  studio  overhead. 
It  has  closets  and  bath,  like  this  room.  He 
said  that  would  do  him.  He  paid  me  a  quarter 
in  advance,  and  camped  right  in,  with  a  small 
bundle  he  had." 

"  Gritty  fellow  !  " 

"  Grit  as  the  Quincy  quarry !  or  he  'd  never 
have  stuck  there  alone  for  three  months,  paint 
ing  like  time,  and  never  stirring  out  till  night." 

"  That  is  enough  to  kill  the  man  !  Never  till 
night!  Not  to  meals,  or  to  buy  materials  ?  Not 
to  meet  a  friend,  to  see  the  world  ?  " 

"  The  world  and  .people  are  what  he  wants  to 
dodge.  I  buy  him  all  his  materials.  He  took 
the  last  tenant's  furniture  just  as  it  stood,  —  and 
it 's  only  about  Sing-Sing  allowance.  He  don't 
seem  to  need  all  sorts  of  old  rubbish  to  put  ideas 
into  him,  as  the  other  painters  do.  I  fitted  him 
out,  according  to  list,  with  sheets  and  towels, 
and  clothes  too.  He  said  he  could  n't  knock 
off  work  for  no  such  nonsense  as  clothes.  He 
must  paint,  or  he  should  n't  have  money  for 
clothes  or  victuals." 

"  A  resolute  recluse,  concentred  upon  his  art," 
said  I.  "  And  about  his  meals  ?  " 


CECIL  DREEME.  121 

"  Mother  Locksley  cooks  'em,  and  Dora  takes 
'em  up  when  I  'm  off.  But  he  don't  eat  enough 
to  keep  a  single-action  cockroach  on  his  rounds." 

"  Poor  fellow  !  I  don't  wonder  he  has  but  a 
hermit's  appetite."  I  am  ashamed  to  say  that 
interest  in  this  determined  withdrawal  from  the 
world  made  me  forget  for  a  moment  that  the 
exile  might  be  in  urgent  need  of  relief. 

"  Mrs.  Locksley,"  continued  the  janitor,  "  has 
never  seen  him.  He  has  had  the  children  up, 
and  drawn  their  likenesses,  like  as  they  can  be. 
But  women  he  don't  seem  to  want  to  have  any 
thing  to  do  with." 

"  Ah  !  "  cried  I.  "  Here  we  have  a  clew ! 
Some  woman  has  wronged  him ;  so  he  is  going 
through  a  despair.  That  is  an  old  story.  He 
edits  it  with  unusual  vigor." 

"That's  what  my  wife  and  I  think,"  says 
Locksley.  "  He  loved  some  girl,  she  went  crook 
ed,  and  so  things  look  black  to  him." 

"  What !  "  thought  I.  "  Is  he  passing  through 
Churm's  4  dark  waters '  ?  Strange  if  I  should 
encounter  at  once  another  illustration  of  that 
sorrow ! " 

After  my  dramatic  fashion  of  identifying  my 
self  with  others,  I  put  myself  in  Mr.  Dreeme's 
place,  and  shrank  from  so  miserable  a  solution 
of  his  exile. 

"  Perhaps,"    I   propounded,   "  some   flirt  has 


122  CECIL  DREEME. 

victimized  the  poor  fellow,  and  he  does  not  yet 
realize  that  we  all  must  take  our  Bachelor  of 
Arts  at  a  flirt's  school,  to  become  Master  of  the 
Arts  to  know  and  win  a  true  woman." 

Locksley  smiled,  then  shook  his  head,  and  his 
worried  look  returned. 

"  No,"  said  he ;  "  that  kind  of  a  girl  makes  a 
man  want  to  be  among  folks  and  forget  her. 
Mr.  Dreeme  has  had  a  worse  hurt  than  that. 
But  whatever  wounded  him,  for  the  last  two 
weeks  he 's  been  growing  paler  and  punier  every 
day.  Some  says  the  smell  of  paint  is  poison.  I 
don't  believe  there 's  any  strychnine  so  bad  as 
moping  off  alone,  and  never  seeing  a  laugh,  and 
never  playing  at  give  and  take,  rough  and  smooth, 
out  in  the  world." 

"You're  right,"  said  I;  "but  let  us  get 
through  our  talk,  and  see  what  is  to  be  done." 

"To-night,"  continued  Locksley,  "just  as  I 
was  wrastling  to  get  off  my  wet  boots,  —  they 
stuck  like  all  suction,  did  them  boots,  but  I 
couldn't  go  to  bed  in  'em, — just  then  my  wife 
began  talking  to  me  about  Mr.  Dreeme.  '  What 
do  you  suppose  has  come  to  him  ?  '  says  she.  *  No 
answer  when  Dora  went  up  with  his  breakfast ; 
no  answer  when  she  knocked  with  his  dinner. 
I  mistrust  he 's  sick/  says  she.  While  she  was 
talking,  a  scare  —  the  biggest  kind  of  a  scare  — 
come  to  me  about  him.  '  Wife,'  says  I,  '  a  scare 


CECIL   DREEME.  123 

has  come  to  me  about  Mr.  Dreeme.'  'Is  it  a 
prickly  scare,  William  ?  '  says  she.  <  Prickly 
outside  and  in,'  says  I ;  '  I  feel  as  if  I  'd  swallowed 
a  peck  of  teazles,  and  was  rolling  in  a  bin  of  'em.' 
'  William,'  says  she,  '  scares  is  sent,  and  the 
prickly  scares  calls  for  hurries.  Just  you  run 
up,  and  lay  your  fist  hard  against  Mr.  Dreeme's 
door,  and  if  he  don't  speak,  and  you  can't  hear 
him  snore  through  the  keyhole,  go  to  Mr.  Churm, 
and  whatever  he  says  do,  you  do !  Mr.  Churm 
always  threads  the  eye  the  first  shove.'  So  I 
went  up,  and  rapped,  and  the  more  I  knocked,  the 
emptier  and  deader  it  sounded.  Mr.  Churm  is 
gone.  What  shall  we  do,  Mr.  Byng?  The 
young  man  may  be  up  there  on  his  back  with  a 
knife  into  him,  or  too  weak  to  call  out,  and  pant 
ing  for  brandy  or  opodildoc.  My  scare  gets 
worse  and  worse." 

"  I  begin  to  share  it.  We  will  go  and  break 
in  at  once.  Light  your  candle,  while  I  find  a 
bottle  of  Mr.  Stillfleet's  brandy." 


CHAPTER    X. 

OVEEHEAD,  WITHOUT. 

AMONG  the  other  treasures  of  Rubbish  Palace, 
I  had  inherited  Stillfleet's  liqueur-case.  It  was 
on  a  generous  scale, —  a  grand  old  oaken  chest, 
bristling  with  griffins'  heads  and  claws,  armed 
with  massive  iron  handles,  and  big  enough  to 
hold  all  the  favorite  tipples  of  a  royal  household, 
or  to  hide  a  royal  pair  if  they  heard  a  Revolution 
coming  up  the  stairs. 

Stillfleet  had  traced  the  pedigree  of  his  chest 
to  within  three  generations  of  Ginevra,  in  her 
family.  He  had  no  doubt  that  this  was  the 
identical  coffer  which  that  sportive  lady  had 
made  her  coffin. 

"  Clip !  "  said  Stillfleet,  shutting  down  the  lid 
as  he  told  me  this  legend  in  the  afternoon. 
"  Clip  !  listen  to  that  snap-lock  !  Fancy  her 
feelings  !  Taste  that  gin  !  '  Genievre  '  from 
Ginevra's  box.  I  like  to  keep  my  nectars  in  a 
coffin  ;  it 's  my  edition  of  the  old  plan  of  drink 
ing  from  a  scull.  Life  is  short.  *  Come,  my  lad, 
and  drink  some  beer  ! '  " 


CECIL  DKEEME.  125 

To  this  grand  sarcophagus  I  proceeded  to  seek 
a  restorative  for  Cecil  Dreeme.  Locksley's  alter 
native,  "  opodildoc,"  was  not  at  hand. 

Lifting  the  heavy  lid,  instead  of  poor  Ginevra's 
bare  bones,  I  found  a  joyous  array  of  antique 
flasks  and  goblets.  They  flashed  at  me  as  the 
gas-light  struck  them,  each  with  the  merry  wink 
of  a  practised  bacchanal.  I  saw  the  tawny  com 
plexion  of  the  brandy  shining  through  a  tall 
bottle,  old  enough  to  have  figured  at  the  banquet 
of  the  Borgia.  Around  this  stately  personage, 
and  gaping  for  the  generous  juices  he  might 
impart,  was  a  circle  of  glasses,  the  finest  work 
of  the  best  days  of  Yenice,  clear  and  thin  as 
bubbles,  and  graceful  as  the  cups  of  opening 
flowers. 

I  took  the  decanter  and  a  glass,  and,  thus 
armed,  followed  Locksley  into  the  corridor. 

His  prickly  scare  had  so  teazled  the  poor  fel 
low  that  he  was  now  quite  like  a  picture  of  Re 
morse  or  Despair.  It  was  entirely  dark  in  the 
building.  Our  single  candle  carried  its  little 
sphere  of  light  along  with  it.  Beyond  and  over 
head  might  have  been  the  vaults  and  chambers 
of  a  cavern,  for  all  we  could  see. 

Passing  Densdeth's  padlocked  door,  we  turned 
toward  the  side  staircase.  I  looked  up  and  down 
the  well  of  the  stairs.  No  oubliette  ever  showed 
a  blacker  void.  It  almost  seemed  to  my  excited 


126  CECIL  DREEME. 

imagination  that  we  ought  to  hear  the  gurgle  of 
a  drowning  prisoner,  flung  down  into  that  dark 
ness  by  us,  his  executioners. 

"  Awful  black  ! "  said  Locksley,  and  the  shadow 
of  his  bristly  hair  on  the  wall  stiffened  with  alarm. 

By  the  dim  gleam  of  the  candle,  the  paint  of 
the  wood  and  stucco  of  the  walls  of  Chrysalis 
changed  to  oak  and  marble.  The  sham  antique 
vanished.  It  became  an  actual  place,  not  mere 
theatrical  scenery.  Seen  by  daylight,  the  whole 
edifice  was  so  unreal  and  incongruous,  that  I 
should  not  have  been  surprised  to  see  a  squad 
of  scene-shifters  at  work  sliding  it  off  and  rolling 
it  up,  and  leaving  Ailanthus  Square  nothing  but 
its  bald  brick  houses  to  stare  at.  Now,  as  we 
climbed  up  the  stairs,  torch-bearer  ahead,  cup 
bearer  behind,  Chrysalis  passed  very  well  for  a 
murky  old  castle  of  the  era  of  plots-,  masks,  poi 
son,  and  vendetta. 

"  Yes,"  thought  I,  "  Locksley's  three  knocks 
did  announce  a  new  act  in  my  drama.  Cecil 
Dreeme  is  the  new  actor.  He  follows  Densdeth 
and  Churm,  he  precedes  Emma  Denman.  Is  he 
in  the  plot  ?  Is  he  underplot,  counterplot,  or 
episode  ?  I  hope,  poor  lonely  fellow,  that  he  has 
not  already  passed  off  the  stage,  as  Locksley 
dreads.  That  would  be  a  dismal  opening  of  my 
life  in  Chrysalis." 

The  janitor  now  pushed  open  the  partition- 


CECIL  DREEME.  127 

door  from  the  upper  landing  into  the  northern 
corridor. 

The  haggard  moon,  in  its  last  quarter,  hung 
just  above  a  chimney  of  Mannering  Place  oppo 
site,  like  a  pale  flame  struggling  up  from  a  fur 
nace.  Its  weird  light  slanted  across  the  mul- 
lion  of  the  narrow  window. 

There  was  just  enough  of  this  feeble  pallor  to 
nullify  the  peering  light  of  Locksley's  candle. 
Ghostly,  indeed,  the  spot  appeared  !  My  anxiety 
and  my  companion's  alarm  were  lively-  enough 
to  shape  a  score  of  ghosts  out  of  a  streak  of 
moonshine. 

"  To  Let,"  the  tenant  of  the  left-hand  rooms, 
had  no  business  with  us,  nor  we  with  him.  On 
the  other  side  was  the  modest  little  card  :  — 

CECIL  DKEEME, 

PAINTER. 

Destiny  had  brought  us  together.  I  was  about 
to  know  him,  alive  or  dead. 

Alive  or  dead !  That  doubt  in  both  our  minds 
made  us  hesitate  an  instant.  Locksley  looked  up 
to.  me  for  orders. 

"  Knock  !  "  whispered  I. 

He  knocked  gently.  If  there  were  a  sick  man 
within,  his  hearing,  sharpened  by  silence,  would 
abhor  a  noise. 

We  both  listened,  without  whisper   or   sigh. 


128  CECIL   DREEME. 

Locksley  deposited  his  candle  on  the  floor  and 
put  his  ear  to  the  keyhole.  The  low  light  flung 
a  queer,  distorted  shadow  of  him  on  the  wall.  It 
seemed  a  third  person,  of  impish  aspect,  not  med 
dling  with  our  proceedings,  but  watching  them 
scornfully. 

No  answer.  Not  even  the  weak  "  Come  in  " 
of  an  invalid. 

Locksley  "laid  his  fist  to  the  door,"  without 
respect  to  his  knuckles. 

"Nothing,"  whispered  he,  "  except  a  sound  of 
emptiness." 

We  now  both  knocked  loudly,  and  gave  the 
door  a  rough  shake,  as  if  it  merited  ungentle 
handling  for  obstructing  the  entrance  of  well- 
wishers. 

After  this  uproar,  dead  silence  again,  except 
a  low  grumble  of  echoes,  turning  over  in  their 
sleep,  to  mutter  anathemas  at  the  disturbers  of 
their  repose. 

"Locksley,"  I  whispered,  "we  are  wasting  time. 
Try  your  pass-key." 

He  introduced  the  key.  His  shadow,  exagger 
ated  and  sinister,  bent  over  him  as  he  worked. 

"  I  must  pick  it,"  said  he,  turning  to  me  with 
a  dogged  burglar-look  on  his  honest  face.  "  His 
key  is  in  the  lock  inside.  But  I  have  n't  been 
poking  into  keyholes  ever  since  I  was  knee-high 
to  a  katydid  for  nothing." 


CECIL  DREEME.  129 

He  took  from  his  pocket  a  pair  of  delicate  pin 
cers.  He  manipulated  for  a  moment.  Presently 
I  heard  the  key  rattle  and  then  drop  inside. 

That  unlawful  noise  should  awake  any  sleeper  ! 
We  paused  and  listened.  No  sound.  Awe  flowed 
in  and  filled  the  silent  stillness.  Again  we  looked 
at  each  other,  shrinking  from  an  interchange  of 
apprehension. 

"  I  'm  afraid  he  is  —  not  living,"  Locksley 
breathed  at  last. 

"  Don't  stop  !     Open  !  " 

He  put  in  his  pass-key  and  turned.  The  bolt 
of  the  latch  also  yielded  to  this  slight  pressure. 
The  door  opened  a  crack  without  warning.  Our 
candle,  standing  on  the  floor,  bent  its  flame  over, 
peering  through  into  the  darkness  within.  Be 
fore  I  could  snatch  it  up,  the  inquisitive  little 
bud  of  fire  had  been  dragged  from  its  stem  by 
the  draught.  The  candle  was  out. 

By  the  pallid  moonlight  we  could  just  see  each 
other's  anxious  faces.  We  could  also  see,  through 
the  narrow  crack  of  the  door,  that  the  same  faint, 
unsubstantial  glimmer  filled  the  room.  This 
ghostly  light  repelled  me  more  than  the  dark 
ness.  It  could  show  the  form,  but  not  the  ex 
pression  of  objects  ;  and  form  without  expression 
is  death. 

"  I  have  matches,"  whispered  Locksley. 

He  drew  one  across  the  sole  of  his  shoe.     It 

6*  I 


130  CECIL  DREEME. 

flashed  phosphoric,  illuminated  the  breadth  of 
sturdy  cowhide  upon  which  the  janitor  trod,  and 
went  out. 

"  Take  time  with  the  next,"  said  I.     "  I  must 
go  in  at  once." 


CHAPTER   XI. 

OVERHEAD,  WITHIN. 

THE  same  door  which  we  had  battered  and 
shaken  so  rudely  I  now  pushed  open  with  quiet, 
almost  reverent  hand. 

Was  I  entering  into  the  presence  of  Death  ? 
No  sleep  but  that,  it  seemed  to  me,  could  hug  a 
sleeper  so  close  as  to  silence  his  answer  or  his 
protest  at  our  noise. 

So  I  stole  into  the  tacit  chamber,  eagerly,  and 
yet  with  my  nerves  in  that  timorous  tremor  when 
they  catch  influences,  as  lifting  ripples  catch  sun 
rise  before  the  calms. 

I  pushed  back  the  door  against  the  close,  repel 
lent  atmosphere  within.  Holding  it,  still,  as  it 
were  a  shield  against  some  sorrowful  shock  I  was 
to  encounter,  I  paused  a  breath  to  see  my  way. 

The  force  of  the  faint  moonlight  brought  it 
only  as  far  as  the  middle  of  the  room.  There 
there  was  a  neutral  ground,  not  light,  not  dark, 
a  vague  in  which  forms  could  be  discerned  by 
intent  vision. 

I  involuntarily  closed  my  eyes,  to  give  sight  the 


132  CECIL   DREEME. 

recoil  before  the  leap.  When  I  opened  them,  and 
flung  my  look  forward  to  grapple  with  what  it 
could  find,  the  first  object  it  seized  was  a  small 
splash  of  white  light,  half  drowned  in  the  dim 
ness.  The  moonbeams  were  also,  without  much 
vigor,  diving  to  examine  this  sunken  object. 
Their  entrance,  or  perhaps  my  own  trembling 
eagerness,  seemed  to  make  a  little  fluctuation 
about  it.  I  steadied  and  accustomed  my  glance, 
and  presently  deciphered  the  spot  as  a  mass  of 
white  drapery  in  a  picture,  standing  upon  an 
easel. 

While  I  was  making  this  out,  I  heard  behind 
me  the  crack  and  fizz  of  Locksley's  second  failure 
with  his  matches. 

The  little  sound  was  both  ally  and  stimulant. 
I  advanced  another  step,  and  my  groping  sight 
detected  a  large  arm-chair  posted  before  the  easel. 

Hanging  over  the  arm  of  the  chair,  where  the 
moonlight  could  not  reach,  I  saw  another  faint, 
pale  spot.  It  was  where  a  hand  would  rest. 
Was  it  a  hand  ? 

Beckoned  forward  by  this  doubt,  I  moved  on 
and  saw,  flung  back  in  the  arm-chair,  a  shadowy 
figure.  A  man  ?  Yes ;  dim  form  and  deathly 
face,  —  a  man  ! 

The  air  of  the  room  was  close  and  sickly.  I 
choked  for  breath.  Life  needs  a  double  portion 
at  such  moments. 


CECIL  DREEME.  133 

Dead  ?  Is  he  dead  ?  I  seemed  to  scream  the 
unspoken  question  to  my  heart. 

It  cost  me  an  effort  to  master  the  involuntary 
human  shudder  at  such  an  encounter.  I  sprang 
forward  where  the  pale  hand  without  motion 
beckoned,  and  the  pale  face  pleaded  for  succor. 

Nothing  of  the  repellent  magnetism  of  a  corpse 
as  my  hand  approached  the  forehead. 

But  as  little  the  responsive  thrill  of  life  waken 
ing  at  life's  touch,  and  renewing  with  a  start  the 
old  delicious  agony  of  conscious  being. 

I  laid  my  hand  upon  the  brow. 

Cold !  But  surely  not  the  cold  of  death  !  This 
was  no  dead  man  whom  I  anxiously,  and  the 
moon  impassively,  were  studying.  Tranced,  not 
dead,  so  instinct  told  me.  Life  might  be  latent, 
but  it  was  there. 

I  felt  tears  of  relief  start  into  my  eyes. 

Whoever  has  lived  knows  that  timely  death  is 
the  great  prize  of  life ;  who  can  regret  when  a 
worthy  soul  wins  it  ?  But  this  untimely  perish 
ing  of  a  brother-man,  alone  and  helpless  in  the 
dark  and  cold,  was  pure  waste  and  ruin. 

Locksley  now  came  to  my  side,  sheltering  his 
lighted  candle. 

"  Dead  ?  "  gasped  he,  and  stopped  silent  before 
the  arm-chair. 

"  No,  no,"  I  whispered,  and  the  curdling  whis 
per  showed  me  how  deep  my  horror  had  been. 


134  CECIL   DREEME. 

"  No  ;  only  fainted,  I  trust.  Open  the  window  ! 
Fresh  air  is  the  first  want." 

"  Fresh  air  he  shall  have,  if  there  's  any  blow 
ing,"  says  Locksley,  briskly.  "  Fresh  air  beats 
the  world  for  stiddy  vittles." 

While  he  worked  at  the  window,  I  poured  a 
compacter  restorative  than  air  out  of  Stillfleet's 
flask.  I  gently  forced  a  few  drops  of  the  brandy 
down  the  unconscious  man's  throat,  and  expended 
a  few  sprinkles  to  bathe  his  forehead. 

"  It  is  the  painter,  Locksley  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Yes  sir." 

And  so  began  my  acquaintance  with  Cecil 
Dreeme. 


CHAPTER    XII. 

DKEEME,  ASLEEP. 

A  CURRENT  of  wintry  wind  flowed  in  as  Locks- 
ley  lifted  the  sash. 

"  Fresh  air  is  prime  for  the  inside,"  said  he. 
"  But  warm  air  for  the  outside  is  the  next  best 
thing.  Shall  I  light  a  fire  in  the  stove  ?  " 

"  Do  ;  but  first  hand  me  that  plaid." 

I  wrapped  my  unresisting  patient  in  the  shawl. 
He  was  a  mere  dead  weight  in  my  hands.  I 
shuddered  to  think  that  his  life  might  be  drifting 
away,  just  out  of  my  reach. 

"  I  hope  we  are  not  too  late,"  I  said. 

"  Shall  I  fetch  a  doctor  ?  "  asked  Locksley. 

"  Fire  first.  Then  doctor  —  if  he  does  not  re 
vive." 

"  There  's  no  kindling-wood,"  says  Locksley, 
from  the  closet.  "  I  '11  run  down  to  your  place, 
Mr.  Byng,  and  get  some." 

"  Pray  do  !  " 

He  hurried  off.  I  was  left  alone  with  the 
tranced  man.  I  repeated  the  little  dose  of  bran 
dy,  and  stood  aside  to  let  the  light  of  the  candle 
fall  upon  his  face. 


136  CECIL   DREEME. 

"  Stop  !  "  said  Delicacy.  "  Respect  the  young 
man's  resolute  incognito." 

"  Too  late  !  "  I  thought  in  reply.  "  Incognito 
has  nearly  murdered  him.  I  shall  knock  it  in 
the  head  without  ceremony.  Besides,  Fate  has 
appointed  me  his  physician ;  how  can  I  doctor 
him  intelligently  without  feeling  the  pulse  of  his 
soul  by  studying  his  face  ?  " 

The  first  question  I  asked  the  pale,  voiceless 
countenance  was,  whether  I  was  not  committing 
the  impertinence  of  trying  to  force  a  man  to  live 
who  had  wished  to  kill  himself.  Suicide  ?  No  ; 
I  don't  see  any  blood.  I  smell  no  laudanum. 
Here  has  been  unhappiness,  but  no  despair,  no 
self-disgust.  A  pure  life  and  a  clear  intellect,  — 
so  the  face  publishes.  Such  a  youth  might  wear 
out  with  work  or  a  wound ;  he  would  never 
abdicate  his  birthright  to  live  and  learn,  to  suffer 
and  be  strong.  Clearly  no  suicide. 

"  No,"  my  thought  continued  rapidly,  "  Locks- 
ley  has  supplied  the  theory  of  Mr.  Dreeme's  case. 
His  face  illustrates  and  confirms  it.  A  man  of 
genius,  ardent,  poor,  and  nursing  a  wound.  The 
wound  may  be  merely  a  scratch,  he  may  merely 
have  had  the  poet's  quarrel  with  vulgar  life  ;  but, 
great  or  small,  the  hurt  has  consigned  him  to 
this  unwholesome  solitude,  and  here  he  has  lav 
ished  his  mind  and  body  on  his  art.  No,  Cecil 
Dreeme,  you  are  dying  because  you  have  igno- 


CECIL   DREEME.  137 

rantly  lived  too  intensely.  But  the  world  does  not 
willingly  let  such  faces  die.  I  myself  feel  the 
need  of  you.-  Even  with  your  eyes  closed,  the 
light  gone,  your  countenance  tells  me  of  the  pres 
ence  of  a  character  and  an  experience  riper  and 
deeper  than  my  own.  What  have  you  been 
taught  by  suffering,  what  have  you  divined  by 
genius,  that  you  wear  maturity  so  patiently  upon 
your  sad  young  face  ?  " 

I  took  the  candle  and  held  it  to  his  lips.  Did 
he  breathe  ?  The  flame  flickered.  But  the  air 
flowing  in  from  without  might  have  caused  that ; 
and  I  would  not  close  the  window  until  the  keen 
northern  blast  had  scourged  out  every  breath  of 
languor  from  the  stifling  room. 

I  withdrew  the  candle.  Curiosity  urged  me 
to  study  the  face  more  in  detail.  But  that 
seemed  disloyal  to  the  sleeper.  I  had  made  up 
my  mind  that  my  patient  was  worthy  of  all  my 
care.  He  was  not  dead,  that  I  should  dissect 
him.  While  a  face  can  protect  itself  by  the  eye, 
—  which  is  shield  to  ward,  blade  to  parry,  and 
point  to  assail,  —  one  feels  not  much  scruple  in 
staring.  But  what  right  had  I  to  profit  by  this 
chance  lifting  of  the  visor  of  a  disarmed  man, 
who  wished  to  do  his  battle  of  life  unknown  ? 

I  therefore  stopped  intentionally  short  of  a 
thorough  analysis  of  his  countenance.  Fair  play 
and  my  anxiety  both  made  me  content  with  my 


138  CECIL  DREEME. 

general  impressions.  It  is  error  to  waste  the  first 
look  and  the  first  few  moments,  if  one  wishes  to 
comprehend  a  face,  —  to  see  into  it.  No  after 
observations  are  so  sharp  and  so  unprejudiced. 

Roughly  then,  —  Cecil  Dreeme's  face  was  re 
fined  and  sensitive,  the  face  of  a  born  artist. 
Separately,  the  features  were  all  good,  well  cut 
and  strong.  Their  union  did  not  produce  beauty. 
It  was  a  face  not  harmonized  by  its  construction, 
but  by  expression, —  by  the  impression  it  gave  of 
a  vigorous  mind,  controlling  varied  and  perhaps 
discordant  elements  of  character  into  unison. 
There  was  force,  energy,  passion,  and  no  lack  of 
sweetness.  Short,  thick,  black  hair  grew  rather 
low  over  a  square  forehead.  The  eyebrows  were 
heavy  and  square.  The  hollow  cheeks  were  all 
burnt  away  by  the  poor  fellow's  hermit  life.  He 
wore  no  beard,  so  that  he  was  as  far  from  the 
frowzy  Diisseldorfer  of  my  fancy  as  from  the 
pretty,  poetic  young  Raphael.  This  was  a  man 
of  another  order,  not  easy  to  classify.  His  coun 
tenance  seemed  to  interpret  his  strange  circum 
stances.  The  face  and  the  facts  were  consistent, 
and  both  faithful  to  their  mystery. 

All  this  while  I  was  chafing  his  hands,  and 
watching  intently  for  some  tremor  of  revival. 

Presently  the  silence  and  the  lifeless  touch 
grew  so  appalling,  that  I  was  moved  to  call 
aloud :  "  Dreenie  !  Cecil  Dreeme  !  " 


CECIL   DREEME.  139 

I  half  fancied  that  he  stirred  at  this. 

Yes  !     No  ! 

Trance  was  master  still.  Life  must  be  patient. 
If  it  wrestled  too  soon,  it  might  get  a  fatal  fall. 
I  dreaded  the  thought  of  my  invalid  giving  one 
gasp,  shuddering  with  one  final  spasm,  and  then 
drooping  into  my  arms  —  dead. 

Locksley  now  came  clattering  into  the  lobby, 
dropping  billets  from  an  over-load  of  kindling- 
wood. 

He  shot  down  his  armful  by  the  stove,  and  ap 
proached  the  figure  in  the  arm-chair. 

"  Any  pulse  ? "  said  he,  taking  the  cold  hand 
in  his. 

"  Is  there  any  ?  "  I  asked,  eagerly. 

"I  shouldn't  wonder,"  he  replied,  "if  the 
blood  was  starting,  just  a  little,  like  water  under 
ice  in  the  early  spring."  Locksley  repeated  the 
experiment  with  the  candle. 

"  He  breathes,"  he  whispered. 

There  was  for  a  moment  no  draught,  and 
the  flame  certainly  trembled  before  Dreeme's 
lips. 

"  He  can't  be  said  to  be  coming  to,"  again 
whispered  the  janitor.  "  That 's  too  far  ahead. 
But  he  's  out  of  the  woods,  and  struck  the  cart- 
track  leadin'  to  the  turnpike." 

"Thank  God!" 

"  Ay  !  that  always  !  "  said  Locksley,  gravely. 


140  CECIL   DKEEME. 

u  Now  here  goes  at  the  fire  !  You  '11  hear  a 
rumblin'  in  this  stove  before  many  minutes 
that  would  boost  a  chimney-sweep." 

He  heaped  in  his  kindling-stuff,  and  lighted 
it.  The  pleasant  noise  of  fire  began.  Locksley 
left  the  stove,  intoning  hollow  music,  like  an 
automaton  bassoon,  and  turned  to  me :  "  Looks 
pretty  gritty,  —  Mr.  Dreeme,  —  don't  he  ?  And 
pretty  mild  too  ?  " 

"  Both,"  said  I. 

"  Not  many  would  have  stood  it  out  alone 
in  such  a  bare  barn  as  this." 

For  the  first  time  I  gave  myself  an  instant  to 
glance  about  the  studio. 

A  bare  barn  indeed  !  Half-carpeted,  furnished 
with  a  table,  a  chest  of  drawers,  and  two  or  three 
chairs.  The  three  doors,  corresponding  to  my 
bath-room,  bedroom,  and  lumber-room,  were  the 
only  objects  to  break  the  monotony  of  the  un 
adorned  walls.  After  the  lavish  confusion  of 
Rubbish  Palace,  this  place  looked  doubly  bleak 
and  forlorn.  To  paint  here,  without  one  single 
attractive  bit  of  color  or  form  to  relieve  the  eye 
and  subsidize  the  fancy,  was  a  tour  de  force,  like 
a  blind  man's  writing  a  Paradise  Lost,  or  a  deaf 
man's  composing  a  symphony. 

"  He 's  had  to  wind  his  whole  picture  out  of 
his  head,"  said  Locksley,  following  my  glance. 
"  and  it  ain't  so  bad  either,  if  you  could  see  it 


CECIL   DREEME.  141 

fair  by  daylight.  Look  at  it  there !  It 's  one 
of  those  pictures  that  make  a  man  feel  savage 
and  sorry  all  at  once." 

Lear  and  his  Daughters,  —  that  was  the  pic 
ture  on  Dreeme's  easel.  I  glanced  at  it,  as  I 
continued  my  offices  about  him. 

The  faint  light  of  one  candle  gave  it  a  certain 
mysterious  reality.  The  background  retired,  the 
figures  projected.  They  stirred  almost,  almost 
spoke.  It  seemed  that  I  ought  to  know  them, 
but  that,  if  I  did  not  catch  the  likeness  at  the 
first  look,  I  could  never  see  it.  "  That  large  and 
imposing  figure,  the  King  !  —  wipe  out  the  hate 
from  his  face,  and  I  have  surely  seen  the  face. 
The  Regan  is  in  shadow;  but  the  Goneril, — 
what  features  do  I  half  remember  that  scorn 
might  so  despoil  of  beauty  ?  Ah !  that  is  the 
power  of  a  great  artist.  His  creations  become 
facts.  This  is  not  imagination,  it  is  history.  At 
last  here  is  my  vague  conception  of  Lear  real 
ized." 

The  Cordelia  I  recognized  at  once.  "  Cecil 
Dreeme  himself.  He  needed,  it  seems,  but  little 
womanizing.  A  very  noble  figure,  even  as  I 
see  it  faintly.  Tenderness,  pity,  undying  love 
for  the  harsh  father,  for  the  false  sisters,  all  these 
Dreeme's  Cordelia  —  Dreeme's  self  idealized  — 
expresses  fully." 

These   observations,  made  in  the   dim  light, 


142  CECIL   DREEME. 

were  interrupted  by  a  little  stir  and  gasp  of  our 
patient. 

We  watched  anxiously  and  in  silence.  Fresh 
air,  warm  wrappings,  brandy,  and  the  magnetism 
of  human  touch  and  human  presence,  were  pre 
vailing.  Yes ;  there  could  be  no  doubt ;  he 
breathed  faintly. 

The  fire  in  the  stove  was  now  roaring  loud. 
That  lusty  sound  and  the  dismal  wind  without 
could  not  overpower  the  low,  feeble  gasps  of  the 
unconscious  man. 

"  We  've  got  him,  hooray ! "  said  Locksley,  in 
an  excited  whisper. 

We  shook  hands,  like  victors  after  a  charge. 
I  could  have  seized  the  bristly  janitor,  and  whirled 
him  into  a  Pyrrhic  breakdown,  without  respect  to 
my  ceiling  below. 

"  Air  he 's  got,"  says  Locksley,  "  and  fire  he  's 
got,  and  a  friend  he 's  got ;  now  for  some  food 
for  him  !  If  you  say  so,  I  '11  just  jiff  round  to 
Bagpypes,  first  block  in  Broadway,  and  get  some 
oysters.  He  has  n't  touched  a  mouthful  to-day, 
unless  he  can  eat  anthracite  out  of  the  coal-bin. 
Starvation 's  half  the  trouble.  An  oyster  is  all 
the  world  in  one  bite.  Let's  get  some  oysters 
into  him,  and  we  '11  build  him  up  higher  than  a 
shot-tower  in  an  hour's  time  !  "" 

"  Just  the  thing !  "  said  I.  "  But  here,  take 
some  money ! " 


CECIL   DREEME.  143 

"  You  may  go  your  halves,"  says  the  honest 
fellow.  "But, 'Mr.  Byng,"  —  he  hesitated,  and 
looked  at  me  doubtfully,  —  "  suppose  he  wakes 
up  while  I  'm  gone,  and  finds  a  stranger  here  ?  " 

"  I  '11  justify  you.  I  will  show  him  that  I  'm  a 
friend  before  he 's  made  me  out  a  stranger." 

"  That  's  right,  sir.  I  think  you  've  got  a  call 
here,  a  loud  call.  See  how  things  has  worked 
round.  You  come  home,  with  nobody  to  look  after, 
you  come  into  Chrysalis,  and  the  very  first  night 
a  scare  is  sent  to  me.  I  go  after  Mr.  Churm,  as 
is  ordered  by  my  wife  and  the  prickles  of  the 
scare.  I  don't  find  him;  I  do  find  you.  You 
don't  say,  '  Janitor,  this  is  none  of  my  business. 
Apply  at  the  sign  of  the  Good  Samaritan,  across 
the  way ! '  No  ;  you  know  it 's  a  call.  You  take 
hold ;  and  here  we  are,  and  the  boy  a  coming  to 
on  the  slow  train.  When  he  gets  to  the  depot, 
Mr.  Byng,  I  hope  you  '11  stand  by  him  and  stick 
to  him." 

"  I  will  be  a  brother  to  him,  Locksley,  if  he 
will  let  me." 

"  Let  or  no  let,  Mr.  Byng.  You  've  got  a  call 
to  pad  to  him  like  a  soldier-coat  to  a  Governor's 
Guard.  But  here  I  go  talkin'  off,  and  where  's 
the  oysters  ?  " 

He  hurried  away.  I  was  left  alone  with  Cecil 
Dreeme. 

Locksley's  urgent  plea  was  hardly  needed.     I 


144  CECIL  DREEME. 

felt  every  moment  more  brotherly  to  this  desolate 
being,  consigned  to  me  by  Fate. 

"  Poor  fellow  !  "  I  thought.  "  He,  I  am  sure, 
will  not  requite  me  witli  harm  for  saving  him,  as 
old  proverbs  too  truly  say  the  baser  spirits  may." 

I  wheeled  him  close  to  the  stove.  The  room 
still  seemed  a  dark  and  cheerless  place  to  come 
back  to  life  in.  I  tried  to  light  the  gas.  It  was 
chilled.  There  was  a  little  ineffectual  sputter  as 
I  touched  the  tube  ;  a  few  sparks  sprang  up,  but 
no  flame  backed  them. 

"  It  must  be  compelled  to  look  a  shade  more 
cheerful,  this  hermitage  !  "  I  thought.  So  I  ran 
down  in  the  dark  to  my  own  quarters  for  more 
light. 

Rubbish  Palace  was  generous  as  Fortunatus's 
purse.  Whatever  one  wanted  came  to  hand. 
More  light  was  my  present  demand.  I  found  it 
in  a  rich  old  bronze  candelabrum,  bristling  with 
candles.  More  wrappings,  too,  I  thought  my 
patient  might  require.  I  flung  across  my  arm  a 
blanket  from  my  bed,  and  that  gorgeous  yellow 
satin  coverlet,  once  Louis  Philippe's. 

Perhaps,  also,  Dreeme  might  fancy  some  other 
drink  than  brandy  when  the  oysters  came.  There 
was  Ginevra's  coffer,  again  presenting  a  plen 
teous  choice.  I  snatched  up  another  old  flask, 
beaming  with  something  vinous  and  purple,  pock 
eted  another  Venetian  goblet,  and,  thus  rein 
forced,  hastened  up-stairs. 


CECIL  DREEME.  145 

Now  that  the  deadly  distress  of  my  alarm  for 
the  painter  was  reduced  to  a  healthy  anxiety,  I 
could  think  what  a  picture  I  presented  marching 
along,  with  my  antique  branch  of  six  lighted 
candles  in  one  hand,  the  mass  of  shining  drapery 
on  my  arm,  and  in  the  other  hand  the  glass, 
flashing  with  the  red  glimmers  of  its  wine.  But 
this  walking  tableau  met  no  critics  on  the  stairs ; 
and  when  I  pushed  open  Dreeme's  door,  he  did 
not  turn,  as  I  half  hoped  he  might,  and  survey 
the  night-scene  with  a  painter's  eye. 

I  deposited  my  illumination  on  the  table. 
Then  I  began  to  envelop  my  tranced  man  in 
that  soft  satin  covering,  whose  color  alone  ought 
to  warm  him. 

All  at  once,  as,  kneeling,  I  was  arranging  this 
robe  of  state  about  Dreeme's  feet,  I  became  con 
scious,  by  I  know  not  what  magnetism,  that  he 
had  opened  his  eyes,  and  was  earnestly  looking 
at  me. 

I  would  not  glance  up  immediately.  Better 
that  he  should  recognize  me  as  a  friend,  at  a 
friend's  work,  before  I  as  a  person  challenged 
him,  eye  to  eye. 

I  kept  my  head  bent  down,  and  let  him  ex 
amine  me,  as  I  felt  that  he  was  doing,  with 
hollow,  melancholy  eyes. 


CHAPTER    XIII. 

DREEME,  AWAKE. 

I  FELT  that  the  pale  face  of  Cecil  Dreeme 
was  regarding  me  with  its  hollow,  sad  eyes, 
as  I  arrayed  him  in  the  splendid  spoil  of  the 
Tuileries. 

Saying  to  himself,  perhaps,  I  thought,  "  What 
does  this  impertinent  intruder  want  ?  Am  I  to 
be  compelled  to  live  against  my  will  ?  I  excluded 
air,  rejected  food  and  fire,  —  must  self-appointed 
friends  thrust  themselves  upon  me,  and  jar  my 
calm  accord  with  Death  ?  " 

I  might  be  in  a  false  position  after  all.  My 
services  and  my  apparatus  might  be  merely  offi 
cious. 

I  evaded  Dreeme's  look,  and,  moving  to  the 
table  behind  him,  I  occupied  myself  in  pouring 
out  a  sip  from  the  flask  I  had  just  brought.  The 
purple  wine  sparkled  in  the  goblet.  In  such  a 
glass  Bassanio  might  have  pledged  Portia. 

No  sooner  had  I  stepped  aside,  than  Dreeme 
stirred,  and  there  came  to  me  a  voice,  like  the 
echo  of  a  whisper  :  "  Do  not  go." 


CECIL  DREEME.  147 

"  No,"  said  I,  "  I  am  here." 

Thus  invited,  I  came  forward  and  looked  at 
him,  eye  to  eye. 

Wonderful  eyes  of  his  !  None  ever  shone  truer, 
braver,  steadier.  These  large  dark  orbs,  now 
studying  me  with  such  sad  earnestness,  com 
pleted,  without  denning,  my  first  impressions  of 
the  man.  Here  was  finer  vision  for  beauty  than 
the  vision  of  creatures  of  common  clay.  Here 
was  keener  insight  into  truth  ;  here  were  the 
deeper  faith,  the  larger  love,  that  make  Genius. 
A  priceless  spirit !  so  I  fully  discerned,  now  that 
the  face  had  supplied  its  own  illumination.  A 
priceless  spirit  !  and  so  nearly  lost  to  the  world, 
which  has  persons  enough,  but  no  spirits  to 
waste. 

As  we  regarded  each  other  earnestly,  I  per 
ceived  the  question  flit  across  my  mind  :  "  Had  I 
not  had  a  glimpse  of  that  inspired  face  before  ?  " 

"  Why  not  ?  "  my  thought  replied.  "  I  may 
have  seen  him  copying  in  the  Louvre,  sketching 
in  the  Oberland,  dejected  in  the  Coliseum,  elated 
in  St.  Peter's,  taking  his  coffee  and  violets  in  the 
CafS  Done*,  whisking  by  at  the  Pitti  Palace  ball. 
Artists  start  up  everywhere  in  Europe,  like  but 
terflies  among  flowers.  He  may  have  flashed 
across  my  sight,  and  imprinted  an  image  on  my 
brain  to  which  his  presence  applies  the  stereo 
scopic  counterpart. 


148  CECIL   DREEME. 

This  image,  if  it  existed,  was  too  faint  to 
hold  its  own  with  the  reality.  It  vanished,  or 
only  remained  a  slight  blur  in  my  mind.  I 
satisfied  myself  that  I  was  comparing  Dreeme 
with  his  idealized  self  in  the  picture. 

"  You  are  better,"  said  I. 

There  came  a  feeble,  flutter-like  "  Yes,"  in 
reply. 

He  still  continued  looking  at  me  in  a  vague, 
bewildered  way,  his  great,  sad  eyes  staring  from 
his  pale  face,  as  if  he  had  not  strength  to  close 
them. 

"  I  have  been  giving  you  brandy,"  I  said ; 
"  let  me  offer  a  gentler  medicine." 

I  held  out  the  cup.  Then,  as  he  made  no  sign 
of  assent,  I  felt  that  he  might  have  a  reason 
able  hesitation  in  taking  an  unknown  draught 
from  a  stranger  hand.  I  sipped  a  little  of  the 
wine.  It  was  fragrant  Port  with  plenty  of 
body  and  a  large  proportion  of  soul.  Magnifi 
cent  Mafra  at  its  royalist  banquet  never  poured 
out  richer  juices  to  enlarge  a  Portuguese  king 
into  manhood.  It  had  two  flavors.  One  would 
say  that  the  grapes  which  once  held  it  bottled 
within  the  dewy  transparency  of  their  rind  had 
hung  along  the  terraces  beside  the  sea,  drink 
ing  two  kinds  of  sunshine  all  the  long  after 
noons  of  ripe  midsummer.  Every  grape  had 
felt  the  round  sun  gazing  straight  and  steadily 


CECIL  DKEEME.  149 

at  it,  and  enjoying  his  countenance  within,  as 
a  lover  loves  to  see  his  own  image  reflected  in 
his  lady's  eye.  And  every  grape  besides  had 
taken  in  the  broad  glow  of  sunshine  shining 
back  from  the  glassy  bay  its  vineyard  over 
hung,  or  the  shattered  lights  of  innumerable 
ripples,  stirred  when  the  western  winds  came 
slinging  themselves  along  the  level  sunbeams 
of  evening.  0  Harry  Stillfleet !  why  did  n't 
you  have  a  pipe,  instead  of  a  quart,  of  the  stuff? 
Why  not  an  ocean,  instead  of  a  sample  ? 

I  sipped  a  little,  like  a  king's  wine-taster. 

"  Port,  not  poison,  Mr.  Dreeme,"  said  I.  "  This 
Venice  glass  would  shiver  with  poison,  and  crack 
with  scorn  at  any  dishonest  beverage." 

He  seemed  to  make  a  feeble  attempt  at  a 
smile,  as  I  proffered  the  dose.  "  Your  health !  " 
his  lips  rather  framed  than  uttered. 

I  put  the  glass  to  his  mouth. 

An  unexpected  picture  for  mid-nineteenth  cen 
tury,  and  a  corner  of  rusty  Chrysalis !  a  strange 
picture!  —  this  dark-haired,  wasted  youth,  robed 
like  a  sick  prince,  and  taking  his  posset  from  a 
goblet  fashioned,  perhaps,  in  a  shop  that  paid 
rent  to  Shylock. 

Dreeme  closed  his  eyes,  and  seemed  to  let 
the  wholesome  fever  of  his  draught  revivify 
him.  By  this  time  the  room  was  warm  and 
comfortable.  The  stove  might  be  ugly  as  a 


150  CECIL  DREEME. 

cylindrical  fetish  of  the  blackest  Africa ;  but  it 
radiated  heat  with  Phoebus-like  benignity. 

"  How  cheerful ! "  murmured  the  painter, 
looking  up  again,  his  forlorn  expression  de 
parted.  "  Fire !  Light !  I  am  a  new  being !  " 

"  Not  a  spirit,  then !  "  said  I.  There  was  still 
something  remote  and  ghost-like  in  the  bewil 
dered  look  of  his  hollow  eyes. 

"  No  spirit !    This  is  real  flesh  and  blood." 

I  smiled.     "  Not  much  of  either." 

"  Have  I  to  thank  you  that  I  am  not  indeed 
a  spirit  ?  "  asked  he  slowly,  but  seeming  to  gain 
strength  as  he  spoke. 

"  Locksley,  the  janitor,  first,  and  me,  second, 
you  may  thank,  if  life  is  a  boon  to  you." 

"  I  thank  both  devoutly.  Life  is  precious, 
while  its  work  remains  undone." 

Here  he  closed  his  eyes,  as  if  facing  labor  and 
duty  again  was  too  much  for  his  feebleness. 
When  he  glanced  up  at  me  anew,  I  fancied  I 
saw  an  evanescent  look  of  recognition  drift 
across  his  face. 

This  set  me  a  second  time  turning  over  the 
filmy  leaves  of  the  book  of  portraits  in  my  brain. 
Was  his  semblance  among  those  legions  of  faces 
packed  close  and  set  away  in  order  there  ?  No. 
I  could  not  identify  him.  The  likeness  drifted 
away  from  me,  and  vanished,  like  a  perplexing 
strain  of  music,  once  just  trembling  at  the  lips, 


CECIL  DREEME.  151 

but  now  gone  with  the  breath,  refusing  to  be 
sung. 

I  thought  it  not  best  to  worry  him  with  in 
quiries  ;  so  I  waited  quietly,  and  in  a  moment  he 
began. 

"  Will  you  tell  me  what  has  happened  ?  How 
came  I  under  your  kind  care  ?  Yours  is  a  new 
face  in  Chrysalis." 

"  I  must  give  the  face  a  name,"  said  I.  "  Let 
me  present  myself.  Mr.  Kobert  Byng." 

"  In  return,  know  me  as  Mr.  Cecil  Dreeme. 
Will  you  shake  hands  with  your  grateful  patient, 
Mr.  Byng." 

He  weakly  lifted  an  attenuated  hand.  Poor 
fellow!  I  could  hardly  keep  my  vigorous  fist 
from  crushing  up  that  meagre,  chilly  handful,  so 
elated  was  I  at  his  recovery  and  his  gratitude. 

"  I  owe  you  an  explanation,  «f  course,"  said  I. 
"  I  am  a  new-comer,  arrived  from  Europe  only 
last  night.  Mr.  Stillfleet,  an  old  comrade,  ceded 
his  chambers  below  to  me  this  afternoon.  Locks- 
ley  "came  to  my  door  at  twelve  o'clock,  looking 
for  my  friend  Mr.  Churm,  who  had  been  sitting 
with  me.  Churm  had  gone.  Locksley  was  in 
great  alarm.  I  volunteered  my  advice.  He  took 
me  into  his  confidence,  so  far  as  this:  he  said 
that  you  were  a  young  painter,  living  in  the  clos 
est  retirement,  for  reasons  satisfactory  to  your 
self,  and  that  he  feared  you  were  dying  from 


152  CECIL  DEEEME. 

overwork,  confinement,  solitude,  and  perhaps 
mental  trouble.  I  said  you  must  be  helped  at 
once.  We  came  up,  and  banged  at  your  door 
heartily.  No  answer.  We  took  the  liberty  to 
pick  your  lock  and  break  into  your  castle.  Then 
we  took  the  greater  liberty  to  put  life  into  you, 
in  the  form  of  air,  warmth,  and  alcohol." 

"  Pardonable  liberties,  surely." 

"  Yes ;  since  it  seems  you  did  not  mean  to 
die." 

"  Suicide  !  "  said  Dreeme,  reproachfully.  "  No, 
thank  God  !  You  did  not  accuse  me  of  that,  Mr. 
Byng!" 

"  When  we  were  knocking  at  your  door,  and 
hearing  only  a  deathly  silence,  I  dreaded  that 
you  had  let  toil  and  trouble  drive  you  to  despair." 

"  Overwork  and  anxiety  were  killing  me,  with 
out  my  knowledge. ". 

"  And  solitude  ?  "  said  I. 

"  And  that  solitude  of  the  heart  which  is  the 
brother  of  death.  Yes,  Mr.  Byng,  I  have  been 
extravagant  of  my  life.  But  innocently.  'Be 
lieve  it !  " 

There  was  such  eager  protest  in  his  look  and 
tone,  that  I  hastened  to  reassure  him. 

"  When  I  saw  your  face,  Mr.  Dreeme,  I  read 
there  too  much  mental  life  and  too  much  moral 
life  for  suicide.  I  see  brave  patience  in  your 
countenance.  Besides,  you  have  too  much  sense 


CECIL  DREEME.  153 

to  rush  out  and  tap  Death  on  the  cold  shoulder, 
and  beg  to  be  let  out  of  life  into  Paradise  before 
you  have  earned  your  entrance  fee.  You  know, 
as  well  as  I  do,  that  Death  keeps  suicides  shiver 
ing  in  Chaos,  without  even  a  stick  and  a  knife  to 
notch  off  the  measureless  days,  until  the  allotted 
dying  hour  they  vainly  tried  to  anticipate  conies 
round." 

Dreeme's  attention  refused  to  be  averted  from 
his  own  case  by  such  speculations. 

"I  have  been  struggling  with  dark  waters, — 
dark  waters,  Mr.  Byng,"  said  he. 

"  Churm's  very  phrase  to  describe  his  sorrow," 
I  thought.  "  Who  knows  but  Dreeme's  grief  is 
the  same  ?  " 

"  Struggling  like  a  raw  swimmer,"  he  contin 
ued.  "And  when  I  was  drowning,  I  find  you 
sent  to  give  me  a  friendly  hand.  It  is  written 
that  I  shall  not  die  with  all  my  work  undone. 
No,  no.  I  shall  live  to  finish." 

He  spoke  with  strange  energy,  and  turned 
toward  his  easel  as  he  closed. 

"  You  refer  to  your  picture,"  said  I,  pleased 
to  see  his  artist  enthusiasm  kindle  so  soon. 

"  My  picture  !  "  he  rejoined,  a  little  carelessly, 
as  if  it  were  of  graver  work  he  had  thought. 
"  How  does  it  promise  ?  I  have  put  my  whole 
heart  into  it.  But  hand  cannot  always  speak 
loud  enough  or  clear  enough  to  interpret  heart." 

7* 


154  CECIL   DREEME. 

"  Hand  has  not  stammered  or  mumbled  here," 
I  replied.  "  My  first  glance  showed  me  that. 
But  I  must  have  daylight  to  study  it  as  it  de 
serves.  Am  I  right  in  recognizing  you  as  the 
Cordelia  of  the  piece  ?  " 

"  For  lack  of  a  better  model,  I  remodelled  my 
self,  and  intruded  there  in  womanly  guise.  My 
work  is  unfinished,  as  you  see ;  but  if  you  had 
not  interposed  to-night,  I  should  have  painted 
no  more."  He  shuddered,  and  seemed  to  grow 
faint  again  at  the  thought  of  that  desolate  death 
he  had  hardly  escaped. 

"  Let  me  cheer  you  with  a  fresh  dose  of  vital 
ity,"  said  I.  "  A  little  more  Lusitanian  sun  in 
crystal  of  Venice." 

This  time  he  was  strong  enough  himself  to 
raise  the  cup  to  his  lips.  He  sipped,  and  smiled 
gratefully ;  —  and  really  a  patient  owes  some 
thanks  to  a  doctor  who  restores  him  with  nectar 
smooth  and  fragrant,  instead  of  rasping  his  throat 
and  flaying  his  whole  interior  with  the  bitters 
sucked  by  sour-tempered  roots  from  vixenish 
soils. 

"  It  was  a  happy  fate,  a  kind  Providence," 
said  Dreeme,  "  that  sent  to  me  in  my  extremity 
a  gentleman  whose  touch  to  mind  and  body  is 
fine  and  gentle  as  a  woman's." 

"  Thank  you,"  rejoined  I.  "  But  remember 
that  I  am  only  acting  as  Mr.  Churm's  substitute. 


CECIL   DREEME.  155 

I  hope  you  will  let  me  bring  him  to  you  in  the 
morning." 

"  No,"  said  he,  almost  with  rude  emphasis. 

I  looked  at  him  in  some  surprise.  "  You  seem 
to  have  a  prejudice  against  the  name,"  I  re 
marked. 

"  Why  should  I  ?  I  merely  do  not  wish  to  add 
to  my  list  of  friends." 

"  But  Mr.  Churm  is  the  very  ideal  friend,  — 
stanch  as  oak,  true  as  steel,  warm  and  cheery  as 
sunshine,  eager  as  fresh  air,  tender  as  midsum 
mer  rain.  Do  let  me  interest  him  in  you.  He 
is  just  the  man  to  befriend  a  lonely  fellow." 

Dreeme  shook  his  head,  resolutely  and  sadly. 

"You  seem  to  mistrust  my  enthusiasm,"  I  said. 

"  It  is  tragic  to  me,"  he  returned,  "  to  hear  a 
generous  nature  talk  so  ardently  of  its  friendships. 
Have  you  had  no  disappointments  ?  Has  no  one 
you  loved  changed  and  become  abased  ?  " 

"  One  would  almost  say  you  were  trying  to 
shake  my  faith  in  my  friend." 

"  Why  should  I  ?     I  speak  generally." 

Here  the  partition  door  of  the  lobby  without 
opened,  and  we  heard  footsteps. 

"  Friend  Locksley,  with  some  supper  for  you," 
said  I,  half  annoyed  at  the  interruption  of  our 
Ule-d-tete. 

"  How  kind  !  how  thoughtful  of  you  both  !  " 
and  tears  started  in  Dreeme's  eyes  as  he  spoke. 


CHAPTER    XIY. 

A  MILD   ORGIE. 

LOCKSLEY  came  boldly  in,  breathlessly. 

"  All  right,  I  see,  Mr.  Dreeme,"  he  panted. 

"  All  right,  Locksley !  thanks  to  you  and  Mr. 
Byng." 

"I've  been  gone,"  says  the  janitor,  "long 
enough  to  make  all  the  shifts  of  a  permutation 
lock." 

He  deposited  a  huge  basket  on  the  table. 

"  Bagpypes's  was  shut,"  he  continued.  "  So 
was  De  Grope's.  I  had  to  go  up  to  Selleridge's. 
He  's  an  open-all-night-er.  Selleridge's  was  full 
of  fire-company  boys,  taking  their  tods  after  a 
run.  Selleridge  could  n't  stop  pouring  and  mix 
ing  and  stirring  and  muddling.  i  Firemen  comes 
first,'  says  he.  <  They  've  got  to  have  their  extin 
guishers  into  'em.'  So  I  jumped  up  on  the 
counter,  and  says  I,  *  Boys,  I  've  got  a  sick  man 
to  oyster  up,  and  if  he  ain't  oystered  up  on  time 
he'll  be  a  dead  shell.'  So  the  red  flannels 
drawed  off,  like  real  bricks.  I  got  my  oysters, 
and  came  away  like  horse-power. 


CECIL  DREEME.  157 

Locksley  took  breath,  and  began  to  arrange  his 
vivers  on  the  table. 

"  Six  Shrewsburys,"  he  pronounced,  bestowing 
their  portly  shells  before  him.  "  For  a  roast,  if 
Mr.  Dreeme  likes.  Twelve  Blue-Pointers,  every 
one  little  as  a  lady's  ear.  Them  for  a  stew,  if 
Mr.  Dreeme  likes  better.  Paper  of  mixed  crack 
ers,  —  Boston  butters,  Wilson's  sweets,  and 
Wing's  pethy.  Pad  of  butter.  Plate  of  slaw, 
ready  vinegared.  I  wanted  to  leave  the  slaw ; 
but  Selleridge  said,  i  No ;  slaw  and  oysters  was 
man  and  wife,  and  he  should  n't  be  easy  in  his 
mind  if  he  sent  one  out  and  kep'  the  other.' 
And  here 's  some  Scotch  ale,  in  a  scrumptious 
little  stone  jug,  to  wash  all  down." 

"  You  will  appall  Mr.  Dreeme's  invalid  appe 
tite  with  these  piles  of  provender,"  said  I. 

"  On  the  contrary,  my  spirits  rise  with  the 
sight  of  a  banquet  and  guests  to  share  it," 
Dreeme  returned. 

"  Nibble  on  a  Wing's  pethy,"  says  Locksley, 
handing  the  crackers,  "  while  I  plant  a  Shrews 
bury  to  cook  in  the  stove." 

"  I  did  not  know  how  ravenous  I  was,"  Dreeme 
said,  taking  a  second  "  pethy." 

"  Dora  had  a  hearty  cry,"  says  the  janitor, 
"  because  she  could  n't  get  any  word  when  she 
came  up  with  your  meals  to-day,  Mr.  Dreeme." 

"  Poor  child  !     I  heard  her  knock  in  the  morn- 


158  CECIL   DKEEME. 

ing ;  but  I  was  half  asleep,  and  too  weak  to  an 
swer.  All  at  once  my  strength,  ignorantly  over 
tasked,  had  failed.  Later,  I  managed  to  struggle 
up  and  dress  myself.  Then  I  found  my  way  to 
this  arm-chair  before  my  picture.  There  I  sat  all 
day,  sometimes  unconscious,  sometimes  conscious 
of  a  flicker  of  life.  Dora  came  with  my  dinner. 
I  heard  her  knock.  When  I  perceived  that  I 
could  not  speak  or  stir  in  answer,  utter  desola 
tion  darkened  down  upon  me.  I  felt  myself  sink 
away,  and  seemed  to  drown,  slowly,  slowly,  with 
out  pain  or  terror.  Immeasurable  deeps  of 
space  crushed  me.  But  by  and  by  I  felt  my 
course  reversed.  I  was  rising,  slowly  as  I  had 
sunk.  At  last  I  knew  the  pang  and  thrill  of  life. 
I  woke  and  saw  Mr.  Byng  restoring  me." 

Dreeme  recited  this  history  with  strange  im- 
passiveness. 

"  You  take  it  pretty  cool,"  says  Locksley. 
"  It  seems  as  if  you  was  making  up  a  tale  about 
somebody  else,  —  holding  off  your  death  at  arm's 
length  and  talking  about  it." 

"  Mr.  Dreeme  speaks  as  an  artist,"  said  I,  try 
ing,  with  a  blundering  good-humor,  to  make  our 
parley  less  sombre.  "  He  already  looks  at  this 
passage  in  his  life  as  a  peril  quite  escaped,  and 
so  material  for  dramatic  treatment." 

"  Death  and  resurrection  !  "  said  Dreeme, 
gravely.  "  Suppose,  Mr.  Byng,  that  you  were 


CECIL  DKEEME.  159 

worn  down  to  die  by  agony  for  sins  not  your 
own,  could  you  believe  that  such  an  incomplete 
death  as  mine  makes  atonement  ?  Could  you 
hope  that  your  strong  suffering  had  purged  the 
guilty  souls  clean  ?  Could  you  have  faith  that 
their  lives  would  renew  and  amend,  as  vital  force 
came  back  to  the  life  that  had  sorrowed  unto 
death  for  them  ?  " 

"  Solemn  questions,  Mr.  Dreeme,"  I  replied. 
"  Are  you  quite  well  enough  yet  to  entertain 
them  ?  " 

Here  the  Shrewsbury  in  the  stove  recalled  us 
to  mundane  phenomena,  by  giving  a  loud  wheeze. 

"  There  she  blows  !  "  cried  Locksley. 

He  grappled  the  crustaceous  grandee  with  the 
tongs,  and  popped  him  on  a  plate.  A  little  fra 
grant  steam  issued  from  the  calcined  lips,  invit 
ingly  parted. 

"  Roast  oysters,"  says  Locksley,  "  always 
wheezes  when  they  're  done  to  a  bulge.  If  you 
want  'em  done  dry,  wait  till  the  music's  all 
cooked  out  of  'em.  This  is  a  bulger,"  he  con 
tinued,  deftly  whisking  off  the  top  shell.  "  Down 
it,  Mr.  Dreeme,  without  winking !  " 

Dreeme  obeyed. 

Locksley  consigned  another  of  the  noble  race 
of  Shrewsbury  to  fiery  martyrdom.  Then  he 
turned  again  to  the  painter. 

"  You  won't  go  and  die  again  ?  "  said  he. 


160  CECIL  DREEME. 

Dreeme  smiled,  and  shook  his  head. 

"  Not,"  says  the  janitor,  with  queer  earnestness 
of  manner,  "  that  I  would  n't  come  in  any  time 
on  call  and  help  liven  you  up,  howsever  dead 
you  might  be.  But  it  ain't  good  for  you  ;  it 's 
unwholesome,  —  tell  him  so,  Mr.  Byng." 

"  Be  informed,  then,  Mr.  Dreeme,"  said  I, 
"  that  dying  is  not  good  for  you.  I  intend  not 
to  let  you  take  any  more  of  it.  I  prescribe  in 
stead  a  generous  life,  and  I  hope  you  will  allow 
me  to  aid  in  administering  the  remedy." 

"  That 's  right,"  says  Locksley,  "  mix  in,  Mr. 
Byng.  And  now,  if  you  say  so,  I  '11  run  down 
and  get  Mr.  Stillfleet's  volcano  and  stew-pan  to 
stew  the  Blue-Pointers.  They  're  waiting,  mild 
as  you  please,  and  not  getting  a  fair  show." 

The  busy  fellow  bustled  off. 

"  Mixing  in  is  my  trade,"  said  I.  "  I  am  a 
chemist.  Pardon  me  if  I  seem  to  mingle  myself 
too  far  and  too  soon  in  your  affairs." 

"  I  feel  no  danger  from  you,  Mr.  Byng.  I 
accept  most  gratefully  your  kind  and  gentleman 
like  interference." 

He  spoke  with  marked  dignity.  Indeed,  al 
though  the  circumstances  of  our  meeting  had 
brought  us  so  near  together,  the  reserve  and  set 
tled  self-possession  of  his  manner  kept  me  at  a 
wide  distance.  No  fear  that  he  would  not  pro 
tect  himself  against  intrusion. 


CECIL   DKEEME.  161 

Locksley  now  reappeared  with  the  stew-pan 
and  alcohol-lamp.  He  went  at  his  cookery  with 
a  blundering  frenzy  of  good-will.  It  was  quite 
idle  for  Dreenie  to  protest  that  he  would  be  killed 
by  this  culinary  kindness. 

"  Just  one  Blue-Pointer !  "  says  the  janitor- 
cook,  forking  out  a  little  oyster  of  pearly  com 
plexion  from  where  it  lay  heads  and  points 
among  its  fellows.  "  Just  one  !  It  '11  top  off 
the  Shrewsburys,  as  a  feather  tops  off  a  com 
modore." 

The  bristly  fellow's  earnestness,  as  he  stood 
seductively  holding  up  the  neat  morsel,  was  so 
comic,  that  Dreeme  let  himself  laugh  heartily. 

I  had  heard  no  laugh  since  Densdeth's  at  the 
Chuzzlewit  dinner-table.  That  scoffing  tone  of 
his  which  broke  in  upon  my  queries  to  Churm 
regarding  Cecil  Dreeme  was  still  in  my  ears. 
The  memory  of  Densdeth's  laugh  still  misrepre 
sented  to  me  all  laughter.  Laughter,  if  I  took 
that  as  its  type,  was  only  the  loud  sneer  of  a 
ruthless  cynic.  Such  a  laugh  made  honor  seem 
folly,  truth  weakness,  generosity  a  bid  for  richer 
requital,  chivalry  the  hypocrisy  of  a  knave. 

I  was  hardly  conscious  how  much  faith  had 
gone  out  of  me,  expelled  by  his  sneering  tone, 
until  Dreeme's  musical,  child-like  laugh  redressed 
the  wrong.  Instantly  the  wound  of  Densdeth's 
cynicism  was  healed.  I  was  freshened  again,  and 


162  CECIL  DREEME. 

tuned  anew  to  all  sweet  influences.  Honor 
seemed  wisdom  ;  truth  the  only  strength  ;  gener 
osity  its  own  reward  ;  chivalry  the  expression  in 
manners  of  a  loyal  heart.  All  the  brave  joyous- 
ness  of  my  nature  responded  to  this  laugh  of 
Dreeme's,  and  spoke  out  boldly  in  my  echoing 
one.  Each  of  us  perceived  new  sympathy  in  the 
other. 

Locksley  now  made  his  reappearance  with  the 
volcano.  The  oysters  crackled  in  the  stove, 
fizzed  and  bubbled  over  the  lamp  on  the  table. 

The  poetic  temperament  takes  in  happiness  and 
good  cheer  as  a  bud  takes  sunshine.  Dreeme 
expanded  more  and  more.  His  silver  laugh 
flowed  free  in  chastened  merriment.  He  seemed 
to  forget  that  an  hour  ago  he  had  been  dying, 
friendless  and  alone ;  to  forget  whatever  sorrow 
or  terror  had  driven  him  to  this  unnatural  se 
clusion,  up  in  the  shabby  precincts  of  Chrysalis 
College. 

We  were  a  merry  trio.  Reaction  after  the 
anxiety  of  the  evening  exhilarated  me  to  my 
best  mood.  Locksley  too  was  in  high  feather. 
His  harangue  at  Selleridge's  had  loosed  his 
tongue,  —  never  in  truth  a  very  tight  one, — 
and  he  vented  no  end  of  odd  phrases  over  the 
banquet. 

Stillfleet's  antique  flasks  and  goblets  figured 
decorously  at  the  board.  They  were  spectators 


-CECIL  DREEME.  163 

rather  than  actors.  The  janitor  proposed  Mr. 
Dreeme's  health. 

"  I  hardly  expected,  Locksley,"  said  I  in  reply, 
"  when  Stillfleet  warned  you  that  I  would  try  to 
introduce  the  Orgie  here,  that  you  were  to  be 
my  chief  abettor." 

"  The  mildest  Orgie  ever  known  !  "  said 
Dreeme. 

"  Rather  a  feast  of  thanksgiving.  But  shall 
we  end  it  now  ?  I  see  you  grow  weary." 

"  I  do,  healthily  weary.  Ah,  Mr.  Byng !  you 
cannot  conceive  the  blissful  revulsion  in  my  life 
since  last  night,  when  I  fell  asleep  alone  and 
without  hope,  —  over-weary  with  work,  weary 
to  death  of  life." 

"  Would  you  like  me  to  camp  with  a  blanket 
on  your  floor,  in  case  you  should  need  any 
thing?" 

"  No,"  he  replied,  rather  coldly.  "  I  shall  do 
well.  I  would  not  incommode  you." 

"  Good  night  then,  my  dear  Mr.  Dreeme. 
Pray  understand  that  our  new  friendship  must 
not  be  slept  out  of  existence." 

No  doubt  my  tone  betrayed  that  his  sudden 
cold  manner  had  made  me  fancy  such  a  result. 

"  0  no  !  "  lie  said  ardently.  "  I  am  not  a 
person  of  many  professions,  but  I  do  not  forget. 
And  I  need  your  kindness  still,  and  shall  need 
it.  Pray,"  continued  he,  "  keep  my  secret.  I 


164  CECIL  DREEME. 

do  not  wish  to  be  known,  until  my  hibernation 
is  over.  Locksley  has  been  pretty  faithful  thus 
far." 

"  Until  Mr.  Byng  arrived  to  make  a  traitor  of 
me,"  said  the  janitor,  with  compunction. 

"  Such  treachery  is  higher  loyalty,"  Dreeme 
rejoined.  "  You  find  me  hiding  my  light  under 
a  bushel,  but  don't  suspect  me,  Mr.  Byng,  of 
anything  worse  than  a  freak,  or  an  ambitious 
fancy." 

Not  either  of  these,  I  was  sure,  from  his  un 
happy  attempt  at  a  smile  as  he  spoke.  But  he 
threw  himself  upon  my  good  faith  so  utterly,  that 
I  resolved  never  to  open  my  eyes,  to  shut  them 
even  to  any  flash  of  suspicion  of  his  secret  that 
any  circumstance  might  reveal. 

"  Good  night !  "     Arid  so  we  parted. 

"We've  hit  the  bull's-eye  true,"  said  Locks- 
ley,  as  we  descended.  "  You  suited  him  even 
better  than  Mr.  Churm  could  have  done." 

"Mysterious  business!  Such  an  odd  place 
to  hide  in  !  And  his  name  on  the  door,  too  !  " 

"  Who  would  think  of  searching  for  a  run 
away  in  a  respectable  old  den  like  this.  Perhaps 
the  name  is  not  his.  A  wrong  name  puts  people 
on  the  wrong  scent.  It 's  having  no  name  that 
is  suspicious.  And  if  he  'd  put  <  Panther,'  instead 
of  '  Painter/  on  his  door,  it  would  n't  have  kept 
people  away  any  better.  Who  goes  to  a  young 


CECIL  DEEEME.  165 

painter's  door?  They  have  trouble  enough  "to 
get  any  notice." 

"  I  believe  you  are  right.  Will  you  come  in 
and  let  me  give  you  a  cigar  ?  " 

"No  I  thank  you,  sir.  Miss  Locksley  has  got 
a  natural  nose  against  tobacco.  If  I  go  to  bed 
scented,  she'll  wake  up  and  scallop  me  with 
questions.  Good  night,  sir.''  And  we  parted 
at  the  main  staircase. 

"  A  full  day,"  I  thought,  as  I  entered  my 
room.  No  danger  of  my  being  bored,  if  events 
crowd  in  this  way  in  America.  Here  certainly 
is  romance.  Destiny  has  brought  Cecil  Dreeme 
and  me  together  without  a  break-down  on  his 
side  of  the  ceiling,  or  a  pistol-shot  from  me  below. 
Poor  fellow !  who  knows  but,  even  so  young,  he 
has  had  some  cruel  experience  like  Churm's  ? 
But  hold !  I  must  not  pry  into  his  affairs.  I 
might  strike  tragedy,  and  tragedy  I  do  not  love. 
So  to  bed,  and  no  dreams  of  Dreeme. 


CHAPTER    XY. 

A  MORNING  WITH  DENSDETH. 

I  SLEPT  late  after  our  gentle  Orgie,  my  second 
night  on  shore. 

A  loud  rapping  awoke  me. 

I  opened.  Churm  was  at  the  door,  stout  stick 
in  hand,  stout  shoes  on  his  feet,  stout  coat  on 
his  back,  —  the  sturdiest  man  to  be  seen,  search 
a  continent  for  his  fellow !  He  had  the  Herculean 
air  of  one  who  has  been  out  giving  the  world  a 
lift  by  way  of  getting  an  appetite  for  breakfast. 

"  Good  morning,"  said  he,  marching  in.  "  This 
will  never  do,  my  tallish  young  Saxon,  come 
home  to  work  !  " 

"What?" 

"  Nine  A.  M.,  and  your  day's  task  not  begun! " 

"I  worked  too  late  last  night." 

"  At  the  mysteries  of  your  trade  ?  I  doubt  if 
you  encountered  a  deeper  one  than  I  in  my 
watch." 

"  Perhaps,  and  perhaps  not.   What  was  yours  ?  " 

"  The  heart  of  a  wrong-doer." 

"  That  transcends  my  trade's  methods  of  an 
alysis." 


CECIL   DREEME.  167 

"  And  in  this  case,  my  powers." 

"  You  are  speaking  of  your  protege,  Towner," 
said  I,  going  on  with  my  toilette. 

"  Of  him.  He  has  a  confession  to  make  to 
me.  He  dares  not  quite  confess.  He  comes  up 
timorously,  like  a  weak-kneed  horse  to  his  leap  ; 
then  he  seems  to  see  something  on  the  other 
side ;  he  flinches  and  sheers  into  a  Serbonian  bog 
of  lies." 

"  Afraid  of  the  consequences  of  confession  ?  " 

"  Not  of  the  ordinary  punishment  of  guilt, 
nor  of  any  ordinary  revenge  from  his  ancient 
master  in  evil." 

"  Namely,  as  you  allege,  Densdeth." 

"  Densdeth." 

"  I  shall  grow  perverse  enough  to  take  Dens- 
deth's  part,  and  cast  my  shell  to  de-ostracize  him 
from  his  moral  ostracism,  if  I  hear  him  called 
The  Unjust  by  all  the  world." 

"  Don't  be  Quixotic,  Byng.  There  is  more 
vanity  than  generosity  in  that." 

"  And  what  dreadful  vengeance  does  your  weak 
ling  fear  ?  " 

"  He  thinks  that,  if  he  betrays  his  master,  he 
shall  never  save  himself  from  that  master's  clutch. 
Densdeth  will  pursue  him  and  debase  his  soul 
through  all  the  eternities,  as  he  has  done  in  this 
life." 

"  Quite  a  metaphysical  distress !  " 


168  CECIL  DEEEME. 

"  Don't  laugh  at  him !  It  is  a  real  agony  with 
him  ;  and  who  knows  but  the  danger  is  real  ?  " 

"  You  do  not  get  at  what  the  poor  devil  has 
done  in  which  you  are  interested  ?  " 

"  Not  at  all.  And  his  moral  struggle  with 
himself,  and  defeat,  have  plunged  him  back  into 
such  pitiable  weakness  of  body,  that  we  have  lost 
all  we  had  gained.  The  doctor  says  that  it  will 
kill  him  to  see  me  again  for  weeks." 

"  So  Densdeth  is  respited.  Well,  I  will  study 
him  in  the  interval,  and  find  out  for  myself 
whether  he  is  '  main  de  fer,  sous  patte  de  ve 
lours:  " 

"  Yery  well,  Byng ;  I  see  you  are  resolved  to 
buy  your  experience.  Densdeth  has  magnetized 
you.  He  does  most  young  men." 

"  I  don't  know  yet  whether  I  shall  turn  to  him 
my  positive  or  negative  pole.  He  may  repel, 
instead  of  attracting,  as  soon  as  I  get  within  his 
sphere.  I  acknowledge  that  I  am  drawn  to  him." 

"  Now  then,  enough  of  such  topics.  My  vigils 
have  given  me  an  appetite.  I  want  to  reverse 
'  qui  dort  dine,'  and  read  '  qui  dejeune  dort.' ' 

"  Where  shall  we  go  ?  Chuzzlewit,  Patrick 
rampant,  flannel  cakes,  and  Densdeth  ?  " 

"  No  ;  a  better  place.   The  Minedurt,  close  by." 

"  Unpropitious  name  !  " 

"  Surnames  go  by  contraries.  This  is  old 
Knickerbocker.  It  should  read  '  The  Grotto  of 
Neatness,'  instead  of  the  '  Minedurt.' '; 


CECIL  DREEME.  169 

Aii  avenue  —  The  Avenue  —  flows  up  hill, 
northward,  from  the  middle  of  Ailanthus  Square. 
Churm  conducted  me  a  few  blocks  along  that 
channel  of  wealth.  He  stopped  in  front  of  the 
Minedurt,  a  hotel  with  restaurant  attached.  Re 
spectable  could  not  have  been  more  distinctly 
stamped  upon  a  building,  if  it  had  been  written 
up  in  a  great  label  across  the  front,  and  in  a 
hundred  little  labels  everywhere,  like  the  big  red 
Ten  and  the  little  red  tens  on  a  bank-bill. 

"  Notice  that  large  house  across  the  street," 
said  Churm,  halting  before  this  respectable  estab 
lishment. 

"  I  do.  It  is  nearer  civilization  than  anything 
I  have  seen.  A  fine  house.  Happy  the  owner  ! 
if  he  appreciates  architecture." 

"  Happy  !  "  said  Churm,  bitterly.  « It  is  Den- 
man's  house  !  He  had  ancestral  acres  here,  and 
was  one  of  the  first  to  perceive  that  the  cream 
would  settle  in  his  grandfather's  cow-pasture." 

"  Stop  a  moment !  The  tragedy  of  my  old 
playmate  gives  the  house  a  strange  sanctity  in 
my  eyes." 

"  It  is  cursed,"  said  Churm.  "  No  happiness 
to  its  tenants,  —  only  harm  to  its  friends,  until 
the  wrong  done  my  child  there  has  been  ex 
piated." 

"  Has  not  her  father's  grief  atoned  for  his 
error  ?  " 

8 


170  CECIL   DREEME. 

"You  cannot  understand  my  feelings,  Byng. 
You  did  not  know  Clara  Denman." 

I  paused  to  inspect  the  mansion,  sanctified  to 
me  by  death.  Death  sanctifies,  birth  consecrates 
a  home. 

Sanctified  ?  But  the  death  here  was  perhaps 
a  suicide.  So  some  alleged.  Can  a  suicide  sanc 
tify  ?  Does  it  not  desecrate  ?  Do  not  some 
churches  deny  the  corpse,  a  self-slayer  flung 
away,  its  hiding-place  in  holy  ground  ?  No 
suicide  near  the  sleeping  saints  !  A  man  may 
strangle  himself  with  good  dinners,  or  poison 
himself  with  fine  old  Madeira  or  coarse  old  Mo- 
nongahela;  a  bad  conscience,  gnawing  day  and 
night,  may  eat  away  his  heart ;  he  may  have 
murdered  the  woman  that  once  loved  him,  by 
judicious  slow  torture  ;  he  may  have  murdered 
the  friend  that  trusted  him,  by  a  peevish  No, 
when  it  was  help  or  death  ;  no  matter !  He  will 
be  allowed  as  comfortable  a  grave  as  a  sexton  can 
dig,  six  feet  by  two  in  soft  soil  under  green  sod, 
and  the  priest  will  dust  his  dust  with  all  the 
compliments  in  the  burial  service.  But  let  him 
have  put  a  knife  to  his  throat,  or  a  bullet  in  his 
brain,  because  he  could  not  any  longer  face  the 
woman  he  had  wronged,  or  the  friend  he  had 
betrayed,  —  what  shudders  then  of  sexton  and 
priest !  No  place  for  him  beside  the  glutton  and 
the  drunkard  !  The  cruel  husband  or  the  false 


CECIL  DREEME.  171 

friend  would  shiver  in  his  coffin  at  such  propin 
quity.  Out  with  him  !  Out  with  the  accursed 
thing  !  To  the  dogs  with  the  carrion  ! 

Not  sanctified,  —  saddened,  I  could,  without 
any  one's  protest,  consider  Mr.  Denman's  house. 
Hundreds,  no  doubt,  every  day  envied  the  happy 
owner.  How  grand  to  possess  that  stately  edi 
fice  of  contrasted  freestones,  purple  and  drab  ; 
those  well-cut  pilasters  ;  that  dignified  roof,  in 
the  old  chateau  manner,  fitly  capping  the  whole ; 
that  majestic  portal ;  those  great  windows,  heavi 
ly  draped,  but  allowing  the  inner  magnificence 
to  peer  through,  conscious,  but  not  ostentatious ; 
—  how  grand  to  stand  and  call  this  mine  ! 

Hundreds,  no  doubt,  envied  Mr.  Denman  every 
day.  First  in  the  morning,  journeymen,  hurry 
ing  by  with  a  poor  dinner  in  a  tin  canister ;  next, 
Tittlebat  Titmouse,  on  his  way  to  the  counter ; 
then  some  clerk  of  higher  degree,  seller  by  the 
piece  instead  of  the  yard,  by  the  cargo  instead  of 
the  pound,  bustling  down  town  to  his  desk  ; 
next  the  poor  book-keeper,  with  twelve  hundred 
a  year,  and  a  mouth  to  every  hundred  ;  then  the 
broken-down  merchant,  who  must  show  himself 
on  the  Street,  though  the  Street  noted  him  no 
more  ;  and  so  on  in  order,  the  financial  digni 
tary,  the  club-man  lounging  to  his  late  breakfast 
or  his  morning  stroll,  the  country  cousin  seeing 
the  lions,  the  woman  of  fashion  driving  up  to 


172  CECIL   DREEME. 

drop  a  card  ;  and  then  at  sunset  the  pretty  girl 
walking  up  town  with  her  lover;  and  then  at 
night  the  night-bird  skulking  by  ;  —  all  these 
envied  the  tenants  of  the  Denman  mansion,  or 
at  least  fancied  them  fortunate.  And  all  houses 
announce  as  little  as  that  the  miseries  that  may 
dwell  within ! 

"  Come,  Byng,"  said  my  friend,  "  you  cannot 
see  into  the  heart  of  that  house  by  staring  at  it." 

"We  passed  in  to  our  breakfast.  Over  our 
coffee  we  glided  into  cheerful  talk.  I  consulted 
Churm,  and  he  frankly  advised  me  as  to  my 
future. 

And  so,  speaking  of  my  own  prospects,  we 
spoke  of  the  hopes  and  duties  of  my  generation 
to  our  country. 

"  We  are  the  first,"  said  I,  "  who  understand 
what  an  absolute  Republic  means,  and  what  it 
can  do." 

"  The  first  as  a  generation.  Individuals  have 
always  comprehended  it,"  said  Churm. 

"  And  now,  acting  together,  on  a  larger  scale, 
with  a  grander  co-operation,  we  will  inaugurate 
the  new  era  for  the  noblest  manhood  and  the 
purest  womanhood  the  world  has  ever  known." 

I  had  spoken  ardently. 

At  once,  as  if  in  echo  to  my  words,  I  heard 
Densdeth's  cynic  laugh  behind  me. 

My  enthusiasm  perished. 


CECIL  DREEME.  173 

I  turned  uneasily.  Was  Densdeth  laughing 
at  my  silly  boyish  fervors  ? 

He  was  sitting  two  tables  off,  breakfasting  with 
a  well-known  man  about  town.  Densdeth's  com 
panion  was  one  of  those  who  have  beauty  which 
they  debase,  talents  which  they  bury,  money 
which  they  squander.  He  was  a  man  of  fine 
genius,  but  genius  under  a  murky  cloud,  flash 
ing  out  rarely  in  a  sad  or  a  scornful  way.  A 
man  sick  of  himself,  sorry  for  himself.  A  wasted 
life,  hating  itself  for  its  waste,  wearing  itself  out 
with  self-reproach  that  it  was  naught.  Some 
evil  influence  had  clutched  him  after  his  first 
success  and  his  first  sorrow.  Thenceforth  his 
soul  was  paralyzed.  The  success  had  nurtured 
a  lazy  pride,  instead  of  an  exalting  ambition. 
The  sorrow  had  made  him  tender  to  himself  and 
hard  to  others.  What  was  that  evil  influence  ? 
Could  it  be  in  the  dark  face  beside  him? 

Densdeth  nodded  to  me  familiarly,  as  I  turned. 

"  Don't  forget,"  said  he,  "  our  appointment  at 
one.  You  know  Raleigh,  I  believe." 

Mr.  Raleigh  and  I  bowed  cordially. 

We  had  met  in  Europe.  We  had  sympathized 
on  art  and  nature.  I  had  touched  only  his  better 
side,  though  I  saw  the  worse.  I  liked  Raleigh, 
and  fancied,  as  a  boy  fancies,  that  I  had  a  certain 
power  over  him,  and  that  for  good. 

We  all  rose  together  after  our  breakfast. 


174  CECIL   DREEME. 

"  Are  you  killing  time,  or  nursing  it,  Byng  ?  " 
said  Densdeth. 

"  Killing  it  for  a  day  or  two,  until  I  acclimate 
to  the  atmosphere  of  work." 

"  Unless  you  have  something  better  to  do,  drop 
over  with  us  to  the  club.  You  must  know  the 
men.  We  will  have  a  game  of  billiards  until 
one." 

"  Yes,  come,  Byng,"  invited  Raleigh's  sweet 
voice. 

"  Thank  you,"  I  said.  "  Business,  in  the  form 
of  Mr.  Churm,  deserts  me.  Pleasure  woos.  I 
yield." 

"  Take  care !  "  said  Churm  to  me,  as  we  walked 
away.  "  I  see  you  insist  upon  personal  expe 
rience." 

"  0  yes !  Nothing  vicarious  for  me !  I  will 
nibble  at  aur  friend.  I  '11  try  not  to  bite,  for  fear 
of  the  poison  you  threaten." 

Churm  left  us,  and  walked  across  Ailanthus 
Square,  on  his  way  down  town. 

"  I  must  look  in  at  my  quarters  for  a  moment," 
said  I  to  the  others ;  "  will  you  lounge  on,  and 
let  me  overtake  you,  or  honor  me  with  a  visit  ?  " 

"  Let  us  drop  in,  Raleigh,"  said  Densdeth.  "  I 
am  curious  to  see  how  the  old  place  looks,  with 
Stillfleet's  breezes  out  and  Byng's  calms  in." 

I  did  the  honors,  and  then,  establishing  my 
guests  with  cigars,  I  excused  myself,  and  ran  up- 


CECIL  DREEME.  175 

stairs  to  give  good  morning  to  Cecil  Dreeme. 
Churm's  presence  and  a  lively  appetite  together 
had  delayed  this  duty.  Besides,  I  had  felt  that 
he  ought  not  to  be  disturbed  too  early. 

I  knocked,  and  spoke  my  name.  The  recluse 
might  sport  oak  to  the  knock  alone. 

"  Coming,"  responded  his  gentle  voice. 

Presently  the  door  opened  enough  to  admit 
me,  but  not  to  display  the  interior  of  the  cham 
ber  to  any  inquisitive  passer. 

I  was  struck,  even  more  than  last  night,  by  the 
singular,  refined  beauty  of  the  youth.  And  then 
his  body  was  so  worn  and  thin,  that  his  soul 
seemed  to  get  very  close  to  me. 

His  personal  magnetism  —  that  is,  the  touch 
of  his  soul  on  mine  —  affected  me  more  keenly 
than  before.  It  was  having  cumulative  influ 
ence.  The  mighty  medicines  for  soul  and  body 
always  do. 

And  so  do  the  poisons. 

"  You  are  looking  quite  vigorous  and  cheerful 
this  morning,"  I  said,  exaggerating  a  little.  "I 
congratulate  you  on  your  leap  out  of  death  into 
full  life." 

"  It  is  to  you  I  owe  it,"  he  said,  with  deep 
feeling. 

He  grasped  my  hand,  and  then  dropped  it 
suddenly  again,  as  if  he  feared  he  was  taking 
a  liberty. 


176  CECIL   DKEEME. 

(How  exactly  I  remember  every  word  and 
gesture  of  those  first  interviews !  Ah,  Cecil 
Dreeme !  how  little  I  fancied  then  what  sal 
vage  you  were  to  pay  me  for  my  succor !) 

"  You  are  hard  at  work  again,  I  see."  I  point 
ed  to  his  palette  and  brushes.  "  Be  cautious ! 
Do  not  overdo  it!  You  must  be  und,er  my  or 
ders  for  a  while." 

I  was  conscious  of  claiming  this  power  a 
little  timidly,  such  was  the  quiet  dignity  of  the 
young  man. 

"  I  will  try  to  be  wiser  now,  since  I  have  a 
friend  who  is  willing  to  admonish  me." 

"  Now,"  continued  he,  as  if  to  turn  atten 
tion  from  himself,  "  look  at  my  picture  !  I  want 
a  slashing  criticism.  You  cannot  find  faults 
that  I  do  not  see  myself." 

I  stepped   back  to   look  at  it.     A  work   of 
power  !    Crude,  indeed  ;  but  with  force  enough 
to  justify  any  crudity. 
'Its  deep  tragedy  struck  me  silent. 

"  Do  not  spare  me,"  said  Dreeme.  "  Silence 
is  severer  than  blame.  Say,  at  least,  that  it  is 
pretty  well  for  a  novice,  —  pretty  well  consid- 
ing  my  years  and  my  practice." 

"  What  has  happened  to  you  ?  "  said  I,  staring 
at  his  pale,  worn  face.  "  What  right  have  you, 
in  the  happy  days  of  youth,  to  the  knowledge 
that  has  taught  you  to  paint  tragedy  thus  ? 


CECIL  DREEME.  177 

What  unknown  agony  have  you  undergone  ? 
Mr.  Dreeme,  your  picture  is  a  revelation.  I 
pity  you  from  my  heart." 

"You  do  not  believe,"  said  he,  evasively, 
"  that  imagination  can  supply  the  want  of  ex 
perience  ? " 

"  Imagination  must  have  experience  to  trans 
fuse  into  new  facts.  You,. of  course,  have  not 
had  an  unjust  father,  like  your  Lear,  nor  a 
disloyal  sister,  like  your  Goneril ;  nor  have  you 
felt  a  withering  curse,  as  your  Cordelia  does. 
But  tyranny  and  treachery  must  have  touched 
you.  They  have  initiated  you  into  their  modes 
of  action  and  expression.  Do  not  find  inquisi- 
tiveness  implied  in  my  criticism.  I  pity  you 
too  much  for  the  ability  and  impulse  to  paint 
thus,  to  be  curious  how  it  came." 

"  Believe,  then,"  said  Dreeme,  "  and  it  may 
help  you  to  make  allowances  for  me,  that  I 
know  in  my  own  life  what  tragedy  means. 
That  experience  commands  me  to  do  violence 
to  my  love  of  beauty  and  happy  scenes,  and 
paint  agony,  as  I  have  done  there.  And  now, 
pray  let  us  be  technical.  That  white  drapery, 
—  how  does  it  fall  ?  Are  the  lines  stiff  ?  Is 
there  too  much  starch  in  the  linen,  or  too  little  ?  " 

"Technicality  another  time.  I  am  uncivil 
even  in  delaying  so  long.  Two  gentlemen  are 
waiting  for  me  below." 

8*  L 


178  CECIL  DREEME. 

"  Your  friend,  Mr.  Churm  ? "  he  asked,  look 
ing  away. 

"  No.    Mr.  Densdeth  and  Mr.  Raleigh." 

"  Densdeth !  "  said  he,  with  a  slight  shudder. 
"  You  see  I  have  the  susceptible  nerves  of  an 
artist.  I  tremble  at  the  mere  sound  of  such 
an  ill-omened  name.  Should  you  not  naturally 
avoid  a  person  called  Densdeth  ?  "  And  as  if 
the  sound  fascinated  him,  he  repeated,  "  Dens 
deth!  Densdeth!" 

"  Name  and  man  are  repulsive ;  but  attrac 
tive  also.  Attractive  by  repulsion." 

"  Take  my  advice,  and  obey  the  repulsion. 
Poisons  are  not  made  bitter  that  we  may  school 
ourselves  to  like  them.  If  this  person,  with  a 
boding  name,  repels  you,  do  not  taste  him,  as 
one  tastes  opium.  Curiosity  may  make  you  a 
slave." 

"  Odd,  that  you,  a  stranger,  should  have  the 
usual  prejudice  against  Densdeth !  " 

"  Consider  that  I  am  as  one  raised  from  the 
dead,  and  so  perhaps  clairvoyant.  I  use  my 
power  to  warn  you,  as  you  have  saved  me." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  I :  "I  will  see  you  this 
evening,  and  tell  you  how  far  I  am  ruined  by  a 
morning  with  this  bete  noir.  If  he  spoils  me,  you 
must  repair  the  harm." 

I  walked  to  the  door.  He  released  me  with  a 
cautious  glance  into  the  hall.  I  ran  down  stairs 
and  apologized  for  my  delay  to  my  guests. 


CECIL   DREEME.  179 

"It  is  a  privilege  to  wait,  my  dear  fellow," 
said  Densdeth,  "  in  such  a  treasure-house.  We 
have  been  looking  at  these  droll  old  tapestries  of 
Purgatory  and  a  hotter  place.  Raleigh  insists 
that  the  seducing  devil,  wooing  those  revellers  to 
hell,  is  my  precise  image." 

"  No  doubt  of  it,"  says  Raleigh.  "  You  must 
be  Mephistophiles  himself.  Those  fifteenth-cen 
tury  fellows  have  got  your  portrait  to  the  life. 
It  seems  you  were  at  the  same  business  then,  as 
now." 

Densdeth  laughed.  Raleigh  and  I  laughed  in 
answer.  Both  had  caught  that  mocking  tone  of 
his. 

"  Not  only  are  you  the  devil  of  the  tapestry," 
said  Raleigh,  "  but  I  see  myself  among  your  vic 
tims." 

"  You  flatter  me,"  said  Densdeth,  again  with 
his  sinister  laugh. 

"Yes,  and  Byng  too,  and  certain  ladies  we 
know  of.  I  really  begin  to  be  lazily  supersti 
tious.  Don't  make  it  too  hot  for  me,  Densdeth, 
when  you  get  me  below.  I  Ve  only  been  a  nega 
tive  sinner  in  this  world,  —  no  man's  enemy  but 
my  own." 

Raleigh's  jest  was  half  earnest.  That  and  the 
demonish  quality  in  Densdeth  quickened  my 
glance  at  the  old  altar-cloth,  which  hung  on  the 
wall,  among  Stillfleet's  prints  and  pictures. 


180  CECIL   DREEME. 

Under  these  impressions,  I  did  indeed  identify 
Densdeth  with  the  cloven-hoofed  tempter  in  this 
characteristic  bit  of  mediaeval  art.  Raleigh  was 
surely  there,  in  the  guise  of  a  languid  Bacchanal, 
crowned  with  drooping  vine-leaves.  I  myself 
was  also  there,  —  a  youth,  only  half  consenting, 
dragged  along  by  an  irresistible  attraction.  And 
continuing  my  observations,  I  recognized  other 
friends,  faintly  imaged  in  the  throng  on  the  tap 
estry.  An  angel,  looking  sadly  at  the  evil  one's 
triumph  and  my  fall,  was  Cecil  Dreeme's  very 
self.  And  up  among  the  judges  sat  Churm,  ma 
jestic  as  a  prophet  of  Michael  Angelo. 

"  Come,"  said  Densdeth,  —  he  was  by  chance 
standing  in  the  exact  attitude  of  the  Tempter  in 
the  tapestry,  —  "come;  we  shall  have  but  just 
time  for  Byng's  introduction  and  our  game  of 
billiards." 

"  Lead  on,  your  majesty  !  "  said  Raleigh. 
"  We  needs  must  follow,  —  to  billiards  or  the 
bottomless  pit." 

We  walked  to  the  club.  It  was  the  crack  club 
then.  Years  ago  it  went  to  pieces.  Its  gentle 
men  have  joined  better.  Its  legs  and  loafers 
have  sunk  to  bar-rooms. 

The  loungers  there  were  languid  when  we  en 
tered. 

No  scandal  had  yet  come  up  from  Wall  Street ; 
none  down  from  Murray  Hill. 


CECIL  DKEEME.  181 

The  morning  was  still  virgin  of  any  story  of 
disaster  to  character,  financial  or  social. 

The  day  had  not  done  its  duty,  —  a  mere  dies 
non,  and  promising  only  to  be  dies  perdita. 

To  be  sure  it  was  still  a  young  day.  It  might 
still  ruin  somebody,  pocket  or  reputation.  Some 
body,  man  or  woman,  might  go  to  protest,  and 
shame  every  indorser,  before  three  o'clock. 

But  everybody  at  the  club  had  made  it  seven 
bells  ;  eight  bells  would  presently  strike,  and  no 
sign  of  the  day's  ration  of  scandal.  They  could 
not  mumble  all  the  afternoon  over  the  stale  crusts 
of  yesterday ;  they  could  not  put  bubble  into 
yesterday's  heel-taps.  Everybody  was  bored.  Life 
was  a  burden  at  the  windows,  by  the  fire,  at  the 
billiard-tables,  of  that  rotten  institution. 

Densdeth's  arrival  made  a  stir. 

"  See  these  gobemouches"  whispered  Raleigh 
to  me.  "  They  think  Densdeth,  the  busy  man, 
would  never  come  here  at  this  hour  in  the  morn 
ing,  unless  some  ill  had  happened,  —  unless  there 
were  some  new  man  to  jeer,  or  woman  to  flout. 
Now  see  how  he  will  treat  them." 

The  languid  loungers  lost  their  air  of  non 
chalance.  There  was  a  general  move  toward 
our  party.  The  click  of  balls  upon  the  tables 
was  still.  The  players  came  forward,  cue  in 
hand.  These  unknightly  knights  of  the  Long 
Table  stood  about  us,  with  the  blunted  lances 


182  CECIL   DREEME. 

of  a  blunted  chivalry,  waiting  to  chuckle  over 
the  fate  of  some  comrade  in  the  dust,  of  some 
damsel  soiled  with  scorn.  Remember,  that  these 
were  only  the  baser  sort  of  the  members.  Heroes 
may  sometimes  lounge.  Real  heroes  may  play 
billiards,  like  the  Phelan,  and  be  heroes  still. 

Densdeth's  manner  with  his  auditory  was  a 
study. 

"  Pigs,"  he  seemed  to  say,  "  I  suppose  I  must 
feed  you.  Gobble  up  this  and  this,  ye  rabble 
rout !  Take  your  fare  and  my  mental  kicking 
with  it." 

Soon  he  tired  of  the  herd,  and  led  the  way  to 
a  billiard-table,  apart. 

"  I  wanted  to  show  you,  Byng,"  said  he,  with 
an  air  of  weary  disgust,  "  what  kind  of  men  will 
be  your  associates  among  the  idlers." 

"  The  busy  men  are  nobler,  I  hope,"  said  I. 

"  You  shall  see.  I  will  give  you  the  entree  to 
the  other  worlds,  —  the  business  world,  the  liter 
ary  world,  the  religious  world,  all  of  them.  Pos 
sibly  you  may  not  have  quite  outlived  your 
illusions.  Possibly  you  may  have  fancied  that 
men  are  to  be  trusted  on  a  new  continent.  Pos 
sibly  you  may  believe  in  the  success  of  a  society 
and  polity  based  on  the  assumption  that  man 
kind  is  not  an  ass  when  he  is  not  a  villain,  and 
vice  versa" 

"  I  had  some  such  fancy." 


CECIL  DREEME.  183 

"  Better  be  disenchanted  now.  than  disap 
pointed  by  and  by.  Apropos,  don't  suppose  I 
often  degrade  myself  to  the  level  of  that  swinish 
multitude  of  scandal-mongers.  But  when  I  saw 
them  so  greedy,  I  could  not  forbear  giving  them 
diet,  according  to  their  stomachs." 

"  What  an  infernal  humbug  you  are,  Dens- 
deth !  "  said  Raleigh,  marking  a  five-shot ;  "  you 
love  to  spoil  those  boys,  and  keep  the  men  spoilt. 
If  you  were  out  of  the  world,  they  would  all 
reform,  and  go  to  sucking  honey,  instead  of 
poison." 

"  We  are  all  humbugs,"  rejoined  Densdeth  ; 
"  I  want  to  put  Byng  on  his  guard  against  me 
and  the  rest.  He  might  get  some  unhappy 
notion,  that  in  America  men  are  brave  and 
women  are  pure." 

I  kept  my  protest  to  myself,  willing  to  study 
Densdeth  further. 

Densdeth  led  the  conversation,  as  indeed  he 
never  failed  to  do.  He  was  a  keen,  hard  analyzer 
of  men,  utterly  sceptical  to  good  motives.  There 
is  always  just  such  a  proportion  of  selfishness  in 
every  man's  every  act ;  there  must  be,  because 
there  is  a  man  in  it.  It  may  be  the  larger  half, 
the  lesser  half,  a  fraction,  the  mere  dust  of  an 
atom,  that  makes  the  scale  descend.  Densdeth 
always  discovered  the  selfish  purpose,  put  it  in 
focus,  held  up  a  lens  of  his  own  before  it.  At 


184  CECIL  DKEEME. 

once  it  grew,  and  spread,  and  seemed  the 
whole. 

Densdeth  was  the  Apostle  of  Disenchantment. 
No  paradisiacal  innocence  where  he  entered. 
He  revealed  evil  everywhere.  That  was  at  the 
core,  according  to  him,  however  smooth  the  sur 
face  showed.  Power  over  others  consisted  in 
finding  .that  out.  And  that  power  was  the  only 
thing,  except  sensuality,  worth  having. 

Thus  I  condense  my  impressions  of  him.  I 
did  not  know  him,  in  and  in,  out  and  out,  after 
this  first  morning  at  the  club,  nor  after  many 
such  meetings.  I  learnt  him  slowly. 

Yet  I  think  I  divined  him  from  the  first.  I 
did  not  state  to  my  own  mind,  then,  why  he 
captivated  me,  —  why  he  sometimes  terrified  me, 
—  why  I  had  a  hateful  love  for  his  society.  In 
fact,  the  power  of  deeply  analyzing  character 
comes  with  a  maturity  that  I  had  not  attained. 
I  was  to  pay  price  for  my  knowledge.  Dens- 
deth's  shadow  was  to  fall  upon  me.  My  danger 
with  evil  personified,  in  such  a  man  as  Densdeth, 
was  to  sear  into  me  a  profound  and  saving  horror 
of  evil.  One  does  not  read  the  moral,  until  the 
tale  is  told. 

We  played  our  billiards.  One  o'clock  struck. 
We  left  Raleigh  to  be  bored  with  the  world  and 
sick  of  himself,  to  knock  the  balls  about,  and 
wish  he  had  been  born  a  blacksmith  or  a  hod- 
carrier. 


CECIL  DREEME.  185 

Densdeth  and  I  walked  to  the  Denmans. 

"  You  will  see  a  very  captivating  young  lady," 
he  said,  with  a  sharp  and  rapid  glance  at  me. 

I  was  aware  of  a  conscious  look.  He  caught 
it  also. 

"  Aha,  Byng !  a  little  tenderness  for  the  old 
playmate  !  Well,  perhaps  she  has  been  waiting 
for  you.  She  has  looked  coldly  on  scores  of 
lovers." 

There  was  a  familiarity  in  his  tone  which 
offended  me.  It  seemed  to  sneer  away  the  deli 
cacy  I  felt  towards  one  with  whom  I  had  childish 
passages  of  admiration  ten  years  ago.  I  was 
angry  at  his  disposing  of  my  destiny  and  hers  at 
once.  In  turn,  I  looked  sharply  at  him,  and  said, 
in  the  same  careless  tone,  "  How  does  Miss  Den- 
man  compare  with  her  sister  ?  " 

Not  a  spark  of  emotion  in  his  impassive  face. 
There  might  have  been  a  slight  smile,  as  if  to 
say,  "  This  boy  fancies  that  he  is  able  to  probe 
me,  and  learn  why  I  courted  the  less  beautiful 
sister,  and  what  I  did  to  drive  her  mad  and  to 
death."  But  the  smile  vanished,  and  he  said, 
quietly :  "  We  will  not  speak  of  the  dead,  if  you 
please.  Among  the  living,  Miss  Denman  stands 
alone.  A  great  prize,  Byng!  People  that  pre 
tend  to  know  say  that  Mr.  Denman  is  a  million- 
naire.  See  what  a  grand  house  he  lives  in  !  " 

"  Grand  houses  sometimes  make  millionnaires 


186  CECIL   DREEME. 

paupers ,"  I  remarked,  thinking  of  what  Churm 
had  told  me. 

"  I  am  quite  sure  no  pauper  owns  this,"  Dens- 
deth  said,  measuring  it  with  a  look,  as  we  walked 
up  the  steps. 

I  remembered  what  Churm  had  said,  and 
fancied  I  saw  at  least  mortgagee,  if  not  pro 
prietor,  in  my  companion's  eye.  Was  he  in 
specting  to  see  if  his  house  needed  a  trowelful 
of  mortar,  or  a  gutter  repaired  ? 


CHAPTER    XYI. 

EMMA  DENMAN. 

DENSDETH  rang.  We  were  admitted  at  once. 
The  footman  introduced  us  into  a  parlor  fronting 
on  the  avenue.  The  interior  of  the  house  was 
worthy  of  its  stately  architecture.  I  do  not  de 
scribe.  People,  not  things,  passions,  not  objects, 
are  my  topics. 

Presently,  in  a  mirror  at  the  end  of  the  long 
suite  of  rooms,  I  was  aware  of  the  imaged  figure 
of  a  young  lady  approaching.  Semblance  before 
substance,  instead  of  preparing  me  for  the  inter 
view,  it  almost  startled  me.  I  half  fancied  that 
shadowy  reflection  to  be  the  spirit  of  the  dead 
sister  watching.  The  living  sister  was  coming  in 
the  body  ;  the  presence  of  the  sister  dead  tarried 
in  the  background,  curious  to  see  what  would 
grow  from  the  germ  of  a  childish  friendship  re 
vived. 

In  a  moment  the  lady  herself  stepped  forward. 

No  thought  of  shadows  any  more  ! 

She,  the  substance,  took  a  stand  among  the 
foremost  figures  in  my  drama. 


188  CECIL  DREEME. 

The  effect  of  the  room  where  I  sat  was  rich 
and  festal,  almost  to  the  verge  of  gorgeousness. 
Had  sorrow  dared  to  intrude  among  such  courtly 
splendors  ?  Carpets  thick  with  the  sunburnt 
flowers  of  late  summer,  —  had  these  felt  the  trail 
ing  step  that  carries  grief  on  to  another  moment 
of  grief  ?  Heavy  crimson  curtains,  —  must  these 
have  uttered  muffled  echoes  when  a  sigh,  out 
ward  bound,  drifted  against  their  folds  ?  And 
deep-toned  pictures,  full  of  victory  and  jubilee,  — 
could  they  not  outface  the  pale  countenance  of 
mourning  in  that  luxurious  room  ?  It  made 
the  power  of  sorrow  and  the  bitterness  of  death 
seem  far  more  giant  in  their  strength,  that  they 
had  crowded  in  hither,  and  hung  a  dim  film 
of  funereal  black  before  all  this  magnificence. 

Crimson  was  the  chief  color  in  carpet,  cur 
tains,  and  walls.  This  deep,  rich  background 
magically  heightened  the  effect  of  the  pale,  ele 
gant  figure  in  deep  mourning  who  was  approach 
ing. 

Emma  Denman  passed  in  front  of  the  mirror, 
erasing  her  own  reflection  there.  She  came 
forward,  and  offered  her  hand  to  me  with  shy 
cordiality.  The  shyness  remembered  the  old 
familiar  playmate  of  the  days  of  "little  hus 
band  and  little  wife  "  ;  the  cordiality  was  for  the 
unforgotten  friend. 

I  found  no  change,  only  development,  in  Emma 


CECIL  DREEME.  189 

Dennian.  Still  the  same  fitful  fascination  that 
had  been  her  charm  as  a  child.  It  seized  me  at 
once.  I  lost  my  power  of  quiet  discrimination. 
I  can  hardly  analyze  her  power  even  now.  These 
subtle  influences  refuse  to  be  subject  to  my  chem 
ical  methods  and  my  formulas. 

It  was  not  the  power  of  beauty,  alone.  Physi 
cal  beauty  she  had,  but  something  higher  also. 
Nor  spiritual  beauty  alone,  but  something  other. 
The  mere  flesh-and-blood  charms,  lilies  and 
roses,  the  commonplace  traits  of  commonplace 
women,  whose  inventory  describes  the  woman, 
she  could  afford  to  disdain.  It  was  a  face  that 
forbade  all  formal  criticism.  No  passport  face. 
Other  women  one  names  beautiful  for  a  feature, 
a  smile,  or  a  dimple,  —  that  link  between  a 
feature  and  a  smile.  Hers  was  a  face  suffused 
with  the  fine  essence  of  beauty.  It  seemed  to 
wrong  the  whole,  if  one  let  eyes  or  mind  make 
any  part  distinct. 

Grace  she  had,  —  exquisite  grace.  Grace  is 
perhaps  a  more  subtle  charm  than  beauty.  Beau 
ty  is  passive  ;  grace  is  active.  Beauty  reveals 
the  nature ;  grace  interprets  it.  Beauty  wins ; 
grace  woos. 

Emma  Denman's  coloring  did  not  classify  her. 
Her  hair  was  in  the  indefinite  shades  between 
light  and  dark.  One  would  not  expect  from  her 
the  steadiness  of  the  fair  temperaments,  nor  the 


190  CECIL   DREEME. 

ardor  of  their  warmer  counterparts  in  hue.  No 
dismissing  her  with  the  label  of  a  well-known 
type.  I  must  have  a  new  and  composite  thought 
in  my  mind  while  I  curiously  studied  her. 

Her  eyes  wanted  color.  They  were  not  blue 
and  constant,  not  black  and  passionate.  Indeed, 
but  for  their  sparkle  and  vivacity,  they  would 
have  seemed  expressionless.  Restless  eyes !  they 
might  almost  have  taken  a  lesson  from  Dens- 
deth's,  so  rapid  were  they  to  come  and  go,  so 
evanescent  and  elusive  was  their  glance.  But 
Densdeth's  were  chasing  eyes ;  hers  were  flying. 
Her  swift  eyes,  her  transitory  smile,  her  motions, 
soft  as  the  bend  of  a  branch,  light  as  the  spring 
of  a  bird,  lithe  as  the  turn  of  a  serpent,  all  were 
elements  in  her  singular  fascination,  —  it  was 
almost  elfin. 

She  was  in  deep  mourning ;  and,  partly  be 
cause  mourning  quickens  sympathy,  partly  be 
cause  to  a  person  of  her  doubtful  coloring 
positive  contrasts  are  valuable,  it  seemed  the 
very  dress  to  heighten  her  beauty.  And  yet, 
as  I  saw  her  afterwards,  I  found  that  all  costume 
and  scenery  became  thus  tributary  to  her,  and 
all  objects  and  people  so  disposed  themselves, 
and  all  lights  and  shades  so  fell,  as  to  define 
and  intensify  her  charm. 

Densdeth  witnessed  our  recognition,  and  then 
excused  himself.  "  He  had  business  with  Mr. 


CECIL  DREEME.  191 

Denman  in  the  library,  and  would  join  us  by 
and  by."  We  both  breathed  freer  upon  his 
exit.  It  was  impossible  not  to  feel  that  he  was 
always  reading  every  act  and  thought ;  and  that 
consciousness  of  a  ruthless  stare  turned  in  upon 
one's  little  innocencies  of  heart  is  abashing  to 
young  people. 

Miss  Denman  had  seemed  uneasy  while  Dens- 
deth  stayed.  She  changed  her  seat,  and  with  it 
her  manner,  as  he  departed.  The  chair  she 
now  took  brought  her  again  within  range  of 
the  distant  mirror.  Her  shadow  became  a  third 
party  in  our  interview.  When  I  observed  it, 
its  presence  disturbed  me.  Sometimes,  as  before, 
I  fancied  it  the  sprite  of  the  sister  dead,  some 
times  the  double  of  the  person  before  me,  —  her 
true  self,  or  her  false  self,  which  she  had  dis 
missed  for  this  occasion,  while  she  made  her 
impression  upon  me. 

Strange  fancies !  faintly  drifting  across  my 
mind.  But  I  did  not  often  observe  that  dim 
watcher  in  the  mirror.  My  companion  engaged 
me  too  closely.  Now  that  Densdeth  was  gone, 
we  sat  in  quiet  mood,  and  let  our  old  ac 
quaintance  renew  itself. 

Our  talk  was  hardly  worth  chronicling.  Words 
cannot  convey  the  gleam  of  pleasure  with  which 
our  minds  alighted  together  on  the  same  mem 
ory  of  days  gone  by,  as  we  used  to  spring  upon 


192  CECIL   DREEME. 

a  flower  in  the  field,  or  a  golden  butterfly  by 
the  wayside. 

"  Ah !  those  sorrowless  days  of  childhood  ! " 
I  said.  "Not  painless,  —  not  quite  painless!" 

"  There  are  never  any  painless  days,"  said  she. 

"No.  Pain  is  the  elder  brother  of  Pleasure. 
But  the  days  when  the  sense  of  injury  passed 
away  with  the  tears  it  compelled  ;  when  the 
sense  of  wrong-doing  vanished  with  the  light 
penance  of  a  pang,  with  the  brief  penitence 
of  an  hour,  and  left  the  heart  untainted.  Those 
days  were  sorrowless." 

As  I  spoke  thus,  Emma  Denman  suddenly 
burst  into  tears. 

I  had  not  suspected  her  of  any  such  uncon 
trollable  emotion.  She  had  seemed  to  me  one 
to  smile  and  flash,  hardly  earnest  enough  for 
an  agony. 

"  Pardon  me,"  she  said,  quelling  her  tears, 
"  but  since  those  bright  days  I  have  suffered 
bitter  sorrow.  As  you,  my  old  playmate,  speak, 
all  that  has  passed  since  we  met  comes  up 
newly." 

This  was  all  she  said,  at  the  moment,  of  her 
sister's  death.  I  respected  the  recent  wound. 
I  had  no  right  to  renew  her  distress  even  by 
sympathy.  I  changed  the  subject. 

"  I  find  myself,"  said  I,  "  between  two  oppo- 
sites,  as  guardians  for  my  second  childhood  at 


CECIL  DREEME.  193 

home.  Mr.  Churm  is  to  launch  me  upon  my 
work.  Mr.  Densdeth  introduces  me  at  the 
club.  Which  shall  my  boyship  obey  ?  " 

"  Such  opposites  will  neutralize  each  other. 
You  will  be  left  free  for  a  guardian  in  my 
sex..  Have  you  sought  one  yet  ?  " 

"  Destiny  selects  for  me.  I  am  thrust  into 
your  hands.  Will  you  take  me  in  charge  ?  " 

The  look  she  gave  as  I  said  this  touched  me 
strangely.  It  seemed  as  if  her  double  had  sud 
denly  glided  forward  and  peered  at  me  through 
her  evasive  eyes.  A  mysterious  expression.  I 
could  no  more  comprehend  it  from  my  present 
shallow  knowledge  of  the  lady,  than  a  novice 
perceives  why  Titian's  surface  glows,  until  he  has 
scraped  the  surface  and  knows  the  undertones. 

"  Will  I  take  you  in  charge  ? "  she  rejoined, 
with  this  strange  look,  henceforth  my  controlling 
memory  of  her  face.  "  Will  you  trust  me  with 
such  grave  office  ?  What  say  the  other  guar 
dians  ?  Do  they  recommend  me  ?  Does  Mr. 
Churm  ?  Have  you  consulted  him  ?  " 

"  Churm  has  rather  evaded  forming  a  prejudice 
in  your  favor  in  my  mind.  He  gave  me  no  ideal 
to  alter.  I  had  no  counter-charm  of  the  fancy 
to  oppose  to  your  actual  charm." 

"  Your  other  choice  among  mentors,  Mr.  Dens 
deth, —  has  he  offered  you  any  light  upon  my 
qualifications  ?  " 

9  M 


194  CECIL   DREEME. 

"  Not  a  word  !  But  lie  is  not  my  choice.  He 
has  chosen  me,  if  our  companionship  is  choice, 
not  chance." 

"  You  accept  him  ?  " 

"  I  have  not  thought  of  rejecting  a  man  of  such 
peculiar  power." 

"  Has  he  mastered  you,  too  ?  " 

"  Mastered  ?  I  am  my  own  master.  He  at 
tracts  my  curiosity  greatly.  I  cannot  resist  the 
desire  to  know  him  by  heart." 

"  To  know  him  by  heart !  "  she  repeated,  with 
almost  a  shudder.  "  To  know  Densdeth  by 
heart !  Study  him,  then,  for  yourself !  I  will 
give  you  no  help  !  No  help  from  me  !  God  for 
bid  !  " 

I  must  have  looked,  as  I  felt,  greatly  surprised 
at  this  outburst,  for  she  recovered  her  usual 
manner,  with  an  effort,  and  said  :  "  Pardon  me, 
again  !  Do  not  let  me  prejudice  you  against  Mr. 
Densdeth.  He  is  our  friend,  our  best  friend  ; 
but  sometimes  I  suddenly  have  superstitious  pan 
ics  when  I  think  of  him  and  my  sister's  death." 

She  seemed  to  struggle  now  against  a  flood  of 
sorrowful  recollections.  The  force  of  the  strug 
gle  carried  her  over  to  the  side  of  gayety. 

Smiles  create  smiles  more  surely  than  yawns 
yawns.  I  yielded  readily  to  Miss  Denman's  gay 
mood.  She  threw  off  the  depression  of  the  early 
moments  of  our  interview.  "  This  should  be  a 


CECIL  DREEME.  195 

merry  hour,"  her  almost  reckless  manner  said, 
"  be  the  next  what  it  might." 

All  the  while,  as  we  sat  in  the  crimson  dimness 
of  that  luxurious  room,  —  she  eager,  animated, 
flashing  from  thought  to  thought,  talking  as  an 
old  friend  who  has  yearned  for  friendship  and 
sympathy  might  talk  to  an  old  friend  who  has 
both  to  give,  —  all  the  while,  as  she  held  me 
bound  by  her  witchery,  her  shadow  in  the  distant 
mirror  sat,  a  ghostly  spy. 

She  was  in  the  midst  of  a  lively  sketch  of  the 
society  I  was  to  know  under  her  auspices,  when 
all  at  once  a  blight  came  upon  her  spirits.  She 
paused.  Her  color  faded.  Her  eyes  became 
flighty.  Her  smile  changed  to  a  look  of  pain. 
She  shivered  slightly.  These  were  almost  im 
perceptible  tokens,  felt  rather  than  perceived. 

Steps  approached  as  I  was  regarding  this 
transformation  with  a  certain  vague  alarm,  such 
as  one  feels  at  a  doubtful  sound,  that  may  be  a 
cry  for  help,  by  night  in  a  forest.  In  a  moment 
Densdeth  entered  the  room.  With  him  was  a 
large  man,  of  somewhat  majestic  figure,  a  marked 
contrast  to  the  slender  grace  of  Densdeth.  This 
new-comer  was  following,  not  leading,  as  if  not 
he,  but  Densdeth,  were  the  master  in  the  house. 

Mr.  Denman!  As  he  came  up  the  suite  of 
parlors,  I  could  observe  him,  form,  mien,  and 
manner. 


196  CECIL  DREEME. 

Without  any  foreknowledge  of  him,  I  might 
have  said,  "  An  over-busy  man,  —  a  man  over 
weighted  with  social  responsibilities.  Too  many 
banks  choose  him  director.  Too  many  compa 
nies  want  his  administrative  power.  Too  many 
charities  must  have  him  as  trustee.  One  of  the 
Caryatides  of  society.  No  wonder  that  he  looks 
weary  and  his  shoulders  stoop.  No  wonder  at 
his  air  of  uneasy  patience,  or  perhaps  impatient 
endurance  and  eagerness  to  be  free  !  " 

But  Churm  had  told  me  of  other  burdens  this 
proud,  self-confident  man  must  bear.  I  could 
not  be  surprised  that  Mr.  Denman  looked  old 
beyond  his  years,  and  that  as  he  spoke  his  eyes 
wandered  off,  and  stared  vaguely  into  his  own 
perplexities. 

He  received  me  cordially.  His  manner  had  a 
certain  broken  stateliness,  as  of  a  defeated  sov 
ereign,  to  whom  his  heart  says,  "  Abdicate  and 
die."  As  he  welcomed  me  to  his  house,  he 
glanced  at  Densdeth.  Did  he  fear  a  smile  on 
that  dark,  cruel  face,  and  a  look  which  said,  "  0 
yes !  you  may  keep  up  the  pretence  of  lordship 
here  a  little  longer,  if  you  enjoy  the  lie  !  " 

"  You  are  an  old  friend,  Mr.  Byng.  Robert,  I 
am  happy  to  see  you  again,"  said  Mr.  Denman. 
"  You  must  be  at  home  with  us.  We  dine  at  six. 
You  will  always  find  a  plate.  Come  to-day,  if 
you  have  no  pleasanter  engagement." 

I 


CECIL  DREEME.  197 

Miss  Denman's  look  repeated  the  invitation. 

I  accepted.  The  old  intimacy  was  renewed. 
And  renewed  with  a  distincter  purpose  on  my 
part,  because  I  said  to  myself,  "  Who  knows  but 
I  may,  with  my  young  force,  aid  this  worn  and 
weary  man  to  shake  off  the  burden  that  oppresses 
him,  and  frustrates  or  perverts  his  life,  —  be  it 
the  mere  dead  weight  of  an  old  error,  —  be  it 
the  lacerating  grapple  of  a  crime  ?  " 

And  now  the  tale  of  my  characters  is  com 
plete.  This  drama,  short  and  sad,  marches, 
without  much  delay,  to  its  close.  If  I  have,  in 
any  scene  thus  far,  dallied  with  details  that  may 
seem  trivial,  let  me  be  pardoned !  It  may  be 
that  I  have  flinched,  as  I  looked  down  the  vista  of 
my  story,  and  discerned  an  ending  of  its  path 
within  some  sombre  cavern,  like  a  place  of  sepul 
ture.  It  may  be  that  I  have  purposely  halted  to 
pluck  the  few  pale  flowers  which  grew  along  my 
road,  and  to  listen  a  moment  to  the  departing 
laugh,  and  the  departing  echoes  of  the  laugh,  of 
every  merry  comrade,  as  he  went  his  way,  and 
left  me  to  fare  as  I  might  along  my  own. 


CHAPTER   XVII. 

A  MORNING  WITH  CECIL  DREEME. 

THROUGH  Charm's  active  friendship,  I  at  once 
found  my  place.  I  have  mentioned  my  profes 
sion,  —  chemistry.  I  was  wanted  in  the  world. 
Better  business  came  to  me  than  a  professorship 
at  the  Terryhutte  University,  salary  Muddefon- 
taine  bonds,  or  a  post  at  the  Nolachucky  Poly 
technic,  salary  Cumberland  wild  lands. 

Churm  only  waited  to  establish  me,  and  then 
was  off,  north,  south,  east,  and  west.  It  was  one 
of  those  epochs  when  mankind  is  in  a  slough  of 
despond,  and  must  have  a  lift  from  Hercules.  It 
was  a  time  when  society,  that  drowsy  Diogenes, 
was  beginning  to  bestir  itself  after  a  careless 
slumber,  and,  holding  up  the  great  lantern  of 
public  opinion  to  find  honest  men,  suddenly  re 
vealed  a  mighty  army  of  rogues.  Rogues  every 
where  ;  scurvy  rogues  in  mean  places,  showy 
rogues  in  high  places  ;  rogues  cheating  for  cents 
in  cheap  shops,  rogues  defrauding  for  millions  in 
splendid  bank  parlors  ;  princely  rogues,  claiming 
princely  salaries  for  unprofitable  services,  and 


CECIL  DREEME.  199 

puny  rogues,  corrupted  by  such  example,  steal 
ing  the  last  profits  to  eke  out  their  puny  pay  and 
give  them  their  base  pleasures ;  potent  rogues, 
buttoning  up  a  million's  worth  of  steamships  or 
locomotives  in  their  fob,  and  rogues,  as  potent  for 
ill  on  a  smaller  scale,  keeping  back  the  widow's 
mite,  and  storing  the  orphan's  portion  with  the 
usurer.  Rogues  everywhere !  and  the  great, 
stern,  steady  eye  of  public  opinion,  at  last  fully 
open  and  detecting  each  rogue  in  the  place  he 
had  crept  or  strode  into,  marking  him  there  in 
his  dastard  shame  or  haughty  bravado,  and  brand 
ing  him  THIEF,  so  that  all  mankind  could  know 
him. 

In  this  crisis,  Society's  great  eye  of  Public 
Opinion  turned  itself  upon  Churm,  and  demand 
ed  him  as  The  Honest  Man.  Society's  unani 
mous  voice  called  upon  him  to  put  his  shoulder 
to  the  wheel.  Society  said,  "  Be  Dictator !  de 
throne,  abolish,  raze,  redeem,  restore,  construct ! 
Condemn  ;  forgive  !  Do  what  you  please,  —  only 
oust  Roguery  and  instate  Honesty." 

This  gigantic  task  engaged  Churm  totally.  I 
lost  him  from  my  daily  life. 

It  was  a  busy,  practical  life,  —  the  life  of  one 
who  had  his  way  to  work  ;  and  yet  not  with 
out  strange  and  unlooked-for  excitements,  in  the 
region  of  romance. 

My  comrades  in  Europe,  countrymen  and  for- 


200  CECIL   DREEME. 

eigners,  had  condoled  with  me  on  my  departure 
for  home. 

"  Going  back  to  America ! "  said  they,  "  to 
that  matter-of-fact  country,  where  everything  is 
in  the  newspapers." 

"  You  that  have  lived  in  Italy  !  "  deplored  my 
romantic  friends,  —  "  in  Italy,  where  skeletons  in 
closets  are  packed  scores  deep  ;  where  you  can 
scarcely  step  without  treading  on  a  murder-stain ; 
where  if  a  man  but  sigh  in  his  bedchamber,  when 
he  loosens  his  waistcoat,  the  old  slumbering  sighs, 
which  chronicle  old  wrongs  done  in  that  palace, 
awake  and  will  not  sleep  until  they  have  whis 
pered  to  each  other  and  to  the  affrighted  stranger 
their  tale  of  a  misery ;  where  the  antique  dagger 
you  use  for  a  paper-cutter  has  rust-inarks  that 
any  chemist  will  say  mean  maiden's  blood ;  where 
the  old  chalice  you  buy  at  a  bargain  gives  a  mild 
flavor  of  poison  to  your  wine  ;  —  you  that  have 
lived  in  richly  historied  Italy,  where  the  magnifi 
cent  past  overshadows  the  present,  what  will  you 
find  to  interest  you  in  a  country  where  there  is 
no  past,  no  yesterday,  and  if  no  yesterday,  no 
to-day  worth  having,  —  but  life  one  indefinitely 
adjourned  to-morrow  ?  " 

"  Poor  Byng  !  Romantic  fellow  !  Why,  un 
less  there  should  be  a  raid  of  Camanches  or 
Pawnees  from  the  Ohio  country,"  said  my  Eu 
ropean  friends,  with  a  refreshing  ignorance  of 


CECIL   DREEME.  201 

geography,  —  "  unless  there  should  come  a  stam 
pede  of  the  red-skinned  gentry  to  snatch  a 
scalp  or  a  squaw  in  the  Broadway  of  New 
York,  you  will  positively  pine  away  for  lack  of 
adventures." 

"  What  a  bore  to  dwell  in  a  land  where  there 
are  no  sbirri  to  whisk  you  off  to  black  dungeons  ! 
How  tame  !  a  life  where  no  tyrannies  exist  to 
whisper  against  always,  to  growl  at  on  anniver 
saries,  to  scream  at  when  they  pounce  on  you,  to 
roar  at  when  you  pounce  on  them.  Yes,  what 
stupid  business,  existence  in  a  city  where  nobody 
has  more  and  nobody  less  than  fifteen  hundred 
dollars  a  year,  paid  quarterly  in  advance  ;  where 
there  is  such  simple,  easy,  matter-of-fact  pros 
perity  that  no  one  is  ever  tempted  to  overstep 
bounds  and  grasp  a  bigger  share  than  his  neigh 
bors  ;  and  so  there  is  never  any  considerable 
wrong  done  to  any  one ;  —  no  wrong,  and  con 
sequently  hearts  never  break,  and  there  can  be 
no  need  of  mercy,  pity,  or  pardon." 

"  Why,  Byng !  life  without  shade,  life  all  bald, 
garish  steady  sunshine,  may  do  to  swell  wheat 
and  puff  cabbage-heads  ;  but  man  needs  some 
thing  other  than  monotony  of  comfort,  some 
thing  keener  than  the  stolid  pleasures  of  deacon- 
ish  respectability.  Byng,"  said  my  Florentine, 
Heidelberg,  or  Parisian  comrades,  each  in  their 
own  language  and  manner,  "  Byng,  you  will 

9* 


202  CECIL  DREEME. 

actually  starve  for  poetry  and  romance  in  that 
detestably  new  country." 

I  confess  that  I  had  had  some  fears  on  this 
subject,  myself. 

I  had  made  up  my  mind  to  drop  into  syste 
matic  existence,  cut  fancy,  eschew  romance,  ban 
ish  dreams,  and  occupy  my  digestion  solely  on  a 
diet  of  commonplace  facts. 

I  might  have  known  that  man  cannot  live  on 
corporeal,  mundane  facts  alone,  unless  he  can 
persuade  his  immortality  to  forget  him,  and  leave 
him  to  crawl  a  mere  earth-worm,  dirt  to  dirt, 
until  he  is  dust  to  dust. 

As  to  romance,  I  might  have  known,  if  I  had 
considered  the  subject,  that  wherever  youth  and 
maiden  are,  there  is  the  certainty  of  romance 
and  the  chance  of  tragedy.  I  jnight  have  known 
that  the  important  thing  in  a  drama  is,  what  the 
characters  are,  and  what  they  do,  not  the  scenes 
where  they  stand  while  they  are  acting.  In  the 
theatre,  people  are  looking  at  the  lover  and  the 
lady,  not  at  the  balustrade  and  the  tower. 

But  though  I  might  have  known  that  the  story 
of  Life  and  Love  is  just  as  potent  to  create  itself 
a  fitting  background  when  it  is  acted  anew  on  a 
new  stage,  as  when  it  is  announced  for  repetition 
with  the  old  familiar,  musty  properties,  I  had, 
indeed,  been  somewhat  bullied  by  the  unreflect 
ing  talk  just  quoted.  I  had  fancied  that  the 


CECIL   DBEEME.  203 

play  could  not  go  on  without  antiquated  stuff 
to  curtain  it,  dry-rotted  boards  for  it  to  tread, 
and  a  time-worn  drop  for  it  to  stand  out  against. 
I  was  sceptical  as  to  the  possibility  of  a  novel 
and  beautiful  development  of  romance  under  the 
elms  of  a  new  land,  in  the  streets  of  its  new 
cities.  I  had  adopted  the  notion  of  Europe,  and 
Europe-tainted  America,  that  my  country  was 
indeed  very  big,  very  busy,  very  prosperous,  but 
monstrously  dull,  tame,  and  prosaic. 

Error !     Worse,  —  mere  stupid  blindness  ! 

My  first  plunge  into  life  at  home  proved  it. 
See  how  my  very  first  day  became  over-crowded 
with  elements  of  interest  and  romance,  —  nay,  of 
mysterious  and  tragic  excitement ! 

Even  the  ancient  scenery,  whether  important 
or  not  to  the  progress  of  the  drama,  had  packed 
itself  up,  and  followed  my  travels.  Stillfleet's 
chambers  were  an  epitome  of  the  whole  Past,  — 
that  is  to  say,  of  the  Past  as  leading  to  the  Pres 
ent  and  interpreting  it.  Stillfleet  had  concen 
trated  the  essence  of  all  the  ages  in  his  informal 
museum.  I  had  but  to  glance  about,  and  I  had 
travelled  over  all  terrestrial  space,  and  lived 
through  all  human  centuries.  He  had  relics 
from  all  the  famous  camps  in  the  great  march 
of  mankind.  He  had  examples,  typical  objects, 
to  show  what  every  age  and  every  race  had 
contributed  to  the  common  stock.  By  art  on 


204  CECIL  DREEME; 

his  walls,  by  books  in  the  library,  by  objects  of 
curious  antiquity,  even  by  the  grotesque  fabrics 
and  contrivances  of  savages  and  transitory  tribes 
of  men,  all  distributed  about  in  orderly  disorder, 
I  could  study  history  at  a  glance,  or  rather  absorb 
history  with  unconscious  eyes. 

Scenery  !  I  need  but  to  look  into  the  Egyp 
tian  corner  of  my  chamber,  and,  if  I  took  any 
interest  in  the  life  of  the  Pharaohs,  there  it  was 
in  a  pictured  slab  from  the  Memnonium ;  or  in 
the  dead  Pharaoh,  there  himself  was  grinning 
in  a  mummy-case,  —  a  very  lively  corpse,  —  un 
pleasantly  lively,  indeed,  when  nights  were  dark, 
and  matches  flashed  brimstone  and  refused  to 
burn. 

Scenery !  Greece  and  Rome,  Dark  Ages,  Cru 
sades,  Middle  Ages,  Moorish  Conquest,  '88  in 
England,  Renaissance,  '89  in  France,  every  old 
era  and  the  last  new  era,  —  all  were  so  thor 
oughly  represented  here,  by  model  of  temple, 
cast  of  statue,  vase,  picture,  tapestry,  suit  of 
armor,  Moslem  scymitar,  bundle  of  pikes,  rusty 
cross-bow  or  arquebuse,  model  of  guillotine,  —  by 
some  object  that  showed  what  the  age  had  most 
admired,  most  used,  or  most  desired,  —  that 
there,  restored  before  me,  rose  and  spread  the 
age  itself,  and  called  its  heroes  and  its  caitiffs 
forward  in  review. 

If  I  preferred  to  live  in  the  Past,  I  had  only  to 


CECIL  DREEME.  205 

shut  myself  up  at  home,  and  forget  that  eager 
Present  about  me,  —  that  stirring  life  of  Amer 
ica,  urged  on  by  the  spirit  of  the  Past,  and  un 
burdened  by  its  matter. 

Romance,  too !  Romance  had  come  to  me, 
whether  I  would  or  no.  Without  any  permis 
sion  of  mine,  asked  or  granted,  I  was  become  an 
actor,  with  my  special  part  to  play,  perforce, 
among  mysteries. 

Cecil  Dreeme. 

Emma  Denman. 

Densdeth. 

My  connection  with  these  three  characters 
grew  daily  closer.  I  do  not  love  mystery.  Igno 
rance  I  do  not  hate ;  for  ignorance  is  the  first 
condition  of  knowledge.  Mystery  I  recoil  from. 
It  generally  implies  the  concealment  of  some 
thing  that  should  not  be  concealed,  for  the  sake 
of  delusion  or  deception ;  or  if  not  for  these, 
because  tragedy  will  follow  its  revelation. 

Cecil  Dreeme  continued  to  me  a  profound 
mystery.  He  kept  himself  utterly  secluded  by 
day,  working  hard  at  his  art.  He  knew  no  one 
but  myself.  No  one  ever  saw  him  except  myself 
and  Locksley,  or  Locksley's  children.  Only  at 
night,  wrapped  in  his  cloak,  did  he  emerge  from 
his  seclusion,  and  wander  over  the  dim  city. 

I  became  his  companion  in  these  walks  when 
ever  my  engagements  allowed  ;  but  such  night 


206  CECIL   DREEME. 

wandering  seemed  unhealthy  for  him  in  his  deli 
cate  state. 

"  Are  you  wise,  Dreeme,"  said  I  to  him,  one 
morning,  in  his  studio,  after  we  had  become  in 
timate,  "  to  live  this  nocturnal  life  ?  Sunshine 
and  broad  daylight  are  just  as  indispensable  to 
man  as  they  are  to  flower  or  plant.  I  might  give 
you  .good  chemical  reasons  for  my  statement." 

"  There  are  night-blooming  flowers,  —  the 
Cereus,  and  others,"  said  he,  avoiding  my  ques 
tion. 

"  Yes,  but  they  owe  their  blossom  to  the  day's 
accumulation  of  sunshine.  Botany  refuses  to 
protect  you." 

"  Plants  grow  by  night." 
"  In  night  that  follows  sunny  day." 
"  I  accept  the  analogy.     I  have  accumulated 
sunshine  enough,  I  hope,  for  growth,  and  per 
haps   for  a  pallid  kind   of  bloom,   in   my  past 
sunny  days.      My  rank  growth  went  on  vigor 
ously  enough  in  the  daylight.     I  am  conscious 
of  a  finer  development  in  the  dark." 

"  But  I  do  not  like  this  voluntary  prison." 
"  Few  escape  a  forced  imprisonment,  longer 
or  shorter,  in  their  lives.  Illness  or  sorrow 
shut  us  in  away  from  the  world's  glare,  that 
we  may  see  colors  as  they  are,  and  know  gold 
from  pinchbeck.  Why  should  I  not  go  to  prison, 
of  my  own  accord,  for  such  teaching,  and  other 
reasons  ?  " 


CECIL  DREEME.  207 

"  And  other  reasons  ?  Tell  me,  Dreeme,  be 
fore  our  friendship  goes  further,  —  before  1 
utterly  and  irrecoverably  give  you  my  confi 
dence." 

"  Go  on." 

"  No  !    I  cannot  go  on." 

"  I  understand,  and  am  not  insulted.  You 
mean  to  ask  whether  I  am  hiding  here  because 
I  have  picked  a  pocket,  or  pillaged  a  till,  or 
basely  broken  a  heart,  or  perhaps  because  I 
have  a  blood-stain  to  wear  out." 

"  My  imagination  had  not  put  its  suspicion, 
if  any  existed,  into  any  such  crude  charges." 

"  So  I  saw,  and  stated  the  question  blankly. 
You  could  not  connect  me  with  vulgar  or 
devilish  crime.  At  the  same  time,  you  had  a 
certain  uneasiness  about  me,  undefined  and 
misty,  but  real.  You  will  not  deny  it,"  and 
lie  smiled  as  he  spoke. 

"  No.  Since  you  affront  the  fact  with  such 
cheerful  confidence,  I  will  not  deny  the  vague 
dread." 

"  Be  at  rest,  then  !  There  is  not  a  man  or 
a  woman  in  the  world,  whom  I  cannot  look  in 
the  eyes  without  blenching.  You  need  not  be 
ashamed  of  me.  You  may  trust  me,  without 
any  fear  of  that  harshest  of  all  the  shocks  our 
life  can  feel,  loss  of  faith  in  a  friend's  honor." 

"  Well,   we  will   never   speak   of  this   again. 


208  CECIL   DREEME. 

Live  by  your  own  laws,  in  the  dark  or  the 
light !  I  demand  unquestioned  freedom  for  my 
self.  I  am  the  last  man  to  refuse  it  to  an 
other." 

"  Really,'7  said  Dreeme,  "  since  your  projec 
tion  into  my  orbit,  I  no  longer  need  personal 
contact  with  the  outer  world." 

"  You  find  me  a  good  enough  newsman." 

"  The  artistic  temperament  does  not  love  to 
bustle  about  in  the  crowd,  to  shoulder  and 
hustle  for  its  facts.  You  give  me  the  cream 
of  what  the  world  says  and  does.  But,  by  and 
by,  when  you  tire  of  the  novelty  of  a  tyro-artist's 
society,  you  will  drop  me." 

"  Never !  so  long  as  you  consent  to  be  my 
in-door  man.  I  often  feel,  now,  as  I  stir  about 
among  men,  collecting  my  budget  of  daily  facts, 
that  I  only  get  them  for  the  pleasure  of  hearing 
your  remarks  when  I  unpack  in  the  evening." 

"  I  must  try  to  be  a  wiser  and  wittier  critic." 

"  You  return  me  far  more  than  I  bring.  I 
train  my  mental  muscle  with  other  people.  You 
give  me  lessons  in  the  gymnastics  of  finer  forces. 
My  worldling  nature  shrivels,  the  immortal  Me 
expands  under  your  artistic  touch." 

"  I  am  happy  to  be  accused  of  such  a  power," 
Dreeme  said,  with  his  sweet,  melancholy  smile. 
"It  is  the  noblest  one  being  can  exercise  over 
another,  and  needed  much  in  this  low  world  of 


CECIL   DREEME.  209 

"Yes,  Dreeme,  your  fresh,  brave,  earnest 
character  I  begin  to  regard  as  my  guardian 
influence.  With  you  I  escape  from  the  mean 
ambitions,  the  disloyal  rivalries,  the  mercenary 
friendships  of  men,  —  from  the  coarseness,  base 
ness,  and  foulness  of  the  world.  You  neutral 
ize  to  me  all  the  evil  powers." 

"  That  Mr.  Densdeth,  of  whom  you  have  once 
or  twice  spoken,  —  is  he  one  of  them  ?  " 

"  Perhaps  so." 

"  Are  you  still  intimate  with  him  ?  " 

"  Intimate  ?  Hardly.  Intimacy  implies  friend 
ship." 

"  Familiar,  then  ?  " 

"  Familiar,  yes.  He  seeks  my  society.  We 
are  thrown  together  by  circumstances.  He  in 
terests  me  greatly.  I  know  no  man  of  such  wide 
scope  of  information,  such  knowledge,  such  wit, 
such  brilliancy,  —  no  one  at  all  to  compare  with 
him,  now  that  my  friend  Churm  is  absent." 

"  Those  two  fraternize,  I  suppose." 

"  Churm  and  Densdeth  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  you  seem  to  make  one  a  substitute  for 
the  other." 

"  '  How  happy  could  I  be  with  either  ! '  0  no  ! 
You  strangely  misapprehend  Mr.  Churm.  The 
two  are  as  much  asunder  in  heart  as  in  looks." 

"Ah!"  said  Dreeme. 

"  You  seem  incredulous.     But  let  me  tell  you 


210  CECIL   DREEME 

that  Churm's  knowledge  of  Densdeth  gives  the 
same  result  as  these  clairvoyant  intuitions  of 
yours.  I  suppose  I  am  a  perverse  fellow  for  not 
obeying  everybody's  '  Fosnum  habet  in  cornu '  of 
Densdeth ;  but  I  have  Cato's  feeling  fox  the 
weaker  side,  or  at  least  the  side  assailed.  Be 
sides,  I  have  a  scientific  experiment  with  this 
terrible  fellow.  I  let  him  bite,  and  clap  on  an 
antidote  before  the  brain  is  benumbed.  I  play 
with  Densdeth,  who  really  seems  to  me  like  an 
avatar  of  the  wise  Old  Serpent  himself,  and  then, 
before  he  has  quite  conquered  me  with  his  fasci 
nation,  I  snatch  myself  away,  and  come  to  you,  to 
be  aroused  and  healed." 

"  I  am  glad  to  be  an  antidote  to  poison.  But 
have  you  no  fears  of  such  baleful  intercourse  ?  " 

"  None.  As  a  man  of  the  world,  I  must  know 
the  perilous  as  well  as  the  safe  among  my  race. 
How  am  I  to  become  as  wise  as  the  serpent,  un 
less  I  study  the  serpent  ?  I  find  Densdeth  a  most 
valuable  preceptor.  He  has  sounded  every  man's 
heart,  in  life  or  history,  and  can  state  the  depth 
of  evil  there  in  fathoms,  feet,  and  inches.  I 
could  no  more  do  without  him  for  that  side  of 
my  education,  than  I  could  spare  your  dove-like 
teaching  to  make  me  harmless  as  a  dove.  Par 
don  my  giving  you  this  unmasculine  office." 

"  You  speak  lightly,  Mr.  Byng.  I  fear  you 
are  a  man  who  has  not  yet  fully  made  up  his 
mind." 


CECIL  DREEME.  211 

"  What  ?  As  to  the  great  choice,  —  Hercules's 
choice  ?  Virtue  or  Vice  ?  0  yes,  I  am  abso 
lutely  committed.  Virtue  has  me  fast.  In  fact, 
I  am  deemed  quite  a  Puritan,  as  men  go ;  I 
should  be  so  not  to  shame  my  ancestors." 

"  Forgive  me  if  I  ask,  Do  you  know  what 
Evil  is  ? " 

"  I  suppose  so  ;  as  much  as  is  to  be  known." 

"  0,  you  cannot !  You  would  not  trifle  with 
it,  if  you  dreamed  how  it  soils.  You  would  fly 
it." 

"  Not  face  it  ?  " 

"  Never,  unless  duty  commanded  you  to  face 
and  crush  it.  Those  who  know  Evil  best  fly 
farthest,  hide  deepest,  dread  its  approach,  shud 
der  at  the  thought  of  its  pursuit.  It  is  so  terri 
bly  subtle.  The  bravest  are  not  brave  before  it ; 
the  strongest  are  not  strong ;  the  purest  are  not 
pure.  It  makes  cowards  of  the  brave,  it  para 
lyzes  the  strong,  it  taints  the  pure.  No  one  is 
safe,  —  no  one,  until  personal  agony  has  made 
him  hate  Evil  worse  than  death.  Mr.  Byng,  you 
have  a  noble  soul ;  but  no  soul  can  safely  palter 
with  a  bad  man.  Palter !  I  use  strong  words. 
I  mean  to  use  them.  You  have  spoken  lightly 
and  pained  me.  To  a  bad  man  —  to  some  bad 
men  —  every  pure  soul  is  a  perpetual  reproach, 
and  must  be  sullied.  You  speak  plainly  of  this 
Densdeth ;  you  understand  his  bad  influence,  and 


212  CECIL  DREEME. 

yet  you  deal  with  him  as  if  he  were  some  inert 
chemical  combination,  which  you  could  safely 
handle  and  analyze.  Such  a  being  is  never  in 
ert  ;  the  less  active  he  seems,  the  more  he  is 
likely  to  be  insidiously  at  work  to  ruin.  For 
give  me,  my  dear  friend,  that  I  warn  you  so 
eagerly  against  this  fatal  curiosity ! " 

He  had  spoken  with  fervid  energy  and  elo 
quence.  In  fact,  there  was  in  this  strange 
young  genius  a  passionate  ardor,  always  latent, 
only  waiting  to  flame  forth,  when  his  heart  was 
touched.  And  when  some  deeper  interest  stirred 
him, — when  he  had  some  protest  to  utter  against 
wrong, — his  large,  melancholy  eyes  grew  intense, 
his  voice  lost  its  pensive  sadness ;  color  came  to 
his  thin,  sallow  cheeks.  It  was  so  now.  For  a 
moment,  he  was  almost  beautiful  with  this  sud 
den  evanescent  inspiration. 

I  paused  after  his  eager  outburst,  watching 
him  with  such  admiration  as  we  give  to  a  great 
actor,  and  then  —  for  I  confess  that  my  conceit 
was  somewhat  offended  by  this  good  advice,  from 
one  in  years  so  much  my  junior  —  I  said,  with  a 
confident  smile  :  "  You  talk  like  a  Cassandra. 
What  do  you  foresee  so  very  terrible,  as  about  to 
befall  me  ?  Pray  do  not  be  uneasy  !  I  am  an 
old  stager.  I  have  managed  to  make  my  way 
thus  far  in  my  life  without  being  worse  than  my 
fellows.  '  I  am  indifferent  honest.'  I  will  try  to 


CECIL   DREEME.  213 

remain  so,  despite  of  the  seductions  of  Bugaboo. 
And  then,  you  know,  I  cannot  go  far  wrong  with 
you  for  Mentor." 

My  tone  seemed  to  r)ttin  him.  He  painted 
some  moments  in  silence  on  his  Lear. 

While  he  painted,  I  observed  him, — interested 
much  in  the  picture  of  his  creation,  more  in  the 
creator.  "  Raphael- Angelico,"  I  thought,  "  he 
merits  the  name  fully.  What  a  delicate  being  ! 
The  finest  organization  I  have  ever  seen  in  man. 
How  strangely  his  personality  affects  me  !  And 
every  moment  fancies  drift  across  my  mind  that 
I  actually  know  his  secret,  and  am  blind,  pur 
posely  blind  to  my  knowledge,  because  I  prom 
ised  him  when  we  first  met  that  I  would  be  so." 


CHAPTER    XVIII. 

ANOTHER  CASSANDRA. 

DREEME  went  on  slowly  and  carefully  with  Ins 
work,  after  my  closing  remark  of  the  last  chapter. 
I  continued  to  observe  him  for  some  moments  in 
silence.  His  palette  and  brushes  were  kept  with 
extreme  neatness.  The  colors  on  the  palette  were 
arranged  methodically,  with  an  eye  to  artistic 
gradation ;  so  that  the  darker  of  the  smooth,  oily 
drops  squeezed  from  his  paint-tubes  made,  as  it 
were,  a  horizon  of  shadow  on  the  outer  rim  of 
the  palette.  Within  this  little  amphitheatre  of 
hillocks,  black,  indigo,  and  brown,  the  dashes  of 
brighter  hue  were  disposed  in  concentric  arcs, 
shading  toward  pure  white  at  the  focus.  All  his 
utensils  and  materials  betokened  the  same  order 
liness  and  refinement ;  nothing  was  out  of  place, 
nothing  daubed  or  soiled.  So  careful  too  was 
his  handling,  that  he  needed  no  over-sleeve  to 
protect  his  own.  The  delicate  hand  and  the 
flexible  wrist  seemed  incapable  of  an  awkward 
or  a  blundering  motion.  He  could  no  more  do  a 
slovenly  thing,  than  he  could  dance  a  break-down 


CECIL   DKEEME.  215 

or  smoke  a  pipe.  This  personal  neatness  was 
specially  beautiful  to  me.  In  my  laboratory,  at 
my  task  of  splitting  atoms  and  unbraiding  gases, 
I  learnt  from  the  exquisite  order  and  proportion 
that  Nature  never  forgets  in  her  combinations  to 
require  the.  same  of  men.  I  found  it  in  Dreeme. 
His  genius  in  art  was  not  of  the  ill-regulated, 
splashy,  blotchy,  boisterous  class.  Nothing  coarse 
could  come  from  those  fine  fingers. 

"  You  elaborate  your  work  with  great  care," 
said  I,  after  some  moments'  silence,  while  the 
painter  had  been  touching  in  dots  of  light,  and 
then  pausing,  studying,  and  touching  again,  here 
a  point  and  there  a  line. 

"  I  must  be  careful  and  elaborate.  It  is  partly 
the  timidity  of  a  novice.  I  feel  that  my  hand 
lacks  the  precision  of  practice,  —  the  rapid,  un 
erring  touch  of  a  master.  But  besides,  now,  as 
my  work  approaches  completion,  I  perceive  a 
failure  in  creative  power.  I  work  feebly  and 
painfully." 

"  Creative  power  of  course  is  temporarily  ex 
hausted  by  a  complete  consistent  creation.  Jove 
felt  empty-headed  enough  when  he  had  thought 
Minerva  into  being.  Lie  fallow  for  a  season,  and 
your  brain  will  teem  again  with  images  !  " 

"  Yes,  that  is  the  law ;  but  you  must  remem 
ber  tha.t  my  case  is  solitary.  My  picture  is  a 
spasm.  It  came  to  me  prematurely,  as  a  pur- 


216  CECIL   DREEME. 

pose  and  a  power  come  in  the  paroxysms  of  a 
fever.  I  have  spent  all  my  large  force  in  it." 

"  Your  picture  is  older,  subject  and  handling, 
than  you,  as  I  have  said  before.  But  music, 
painting,  and  poetry  are  gifts  of  the  gods  to  the 
young." 

"  Older  than  my  years  ?  Ah  yes  !  "  he  said, 
drearily.  "  I  was  in  the  immortal  misery  when 
I  poured  out  my  soul  there.  It  was  sore,  sore, 
sore  work.  I  pray  that  I  may  never  need  to 
create  tragedy  again.  I  pray  that  no  new  or 
ancient  experience  may  compel  me  to  confess 
and  confide  it  to  the  impersonal  world.  No,  I 
have  wreaked  my  anguish,  my  pity,  my  shame 
for  the  guilty,  on  that  canvas,  and  the  virtue  is 
gone  out  of  me." 

"  Essay  another  vein !  You  have  worked  off 
bitterness.  Open  your  heart  to  sweetness !  In 
brighter  mood,  you  will  do  fairer  things  without 
the  tragic  element." 

"  Since  you  and  Locksley  compelled  me  to 
accept  the  sweet  gift  of  a  life  more  hopeful,  I 
have  made  some  sketches  in  a  less  severe  manner 
than  my  Lear.  That  was  cruel  tragedy.  These 
are  only  anecdotes." 

"  Pray  exhibit !  " 

"To  so  gentle  a  critic,  I  venture.  Do  not 
expect  passion,  —  that  I  wished  to  spare  my 
self.  The  sentiment  is  simple  and  commonplace 
enough." 


CECIL  DREEME.  217 

He  placed  before  me  three  sketchy  pictures, 
able  and  rapid. 

"  You  see,"  said  he,  "  I  play  upon  one  idea  or 
its  reverse." 

The  first  sketch  depicted  a  young  girl,  caught 
in  a  snow-storm,  and  sunk,  a  mere  shapeless 
thing,  among  the  drifts  in  a  dreary  pine-wood. 
A  gentleman,  in  the  costume  of  a  Puritan  soldier, 
stooped  over  her.  Beside  him  stood  a  sturdy 
yeoman  with  a  cloak  and  a  basket.  A  few  sun 
beams  cleft  the  pines,  glinted  on  the  hero's  cors 
let,  and  warmed  the  group.  It  was  a  scene  full 
of  the  pathos  of  doubtful  hope. 

"  Thank  you  for  my  immortality,"  said  I, 
"  It  was  a  pretty  thought  to  put  Locksley  and 
myself  in  this  scene  of  rescue,  —  me  too  in  the 
steel  and  buff  of  that  plucky  old  pioneer,  the 
first  Byng,  with  whose  exploits  I  have  bored  you 
so  often.  I  hope  we  were  in  time,  before  the 
maiden  perished." 

"  The  sunbeam  seems  to  promise  that,"  said 
he  smiling,  and  handed  me  the  next. 

Second  picture.  Scene,  the  splendid  salon  of 
a  French  chateau.  Through  the  window,  a  mad 
mob  of  sans  culottes  were  visible,  forcing  the 
grand  entrance.  Within,  myself — costume,  pur 
ple  velvet,  lace,  and  rapier  —  and  Locksley,  in 
blouse  and  sabots,  were  bearing  off  a  fainted 
lady,  dark-haired,  and  robed  in  yellow. 
10 


218  CECIL   DREEME. 

"  Twice  immortal !  "  said  I.  "  But  why  avert 
the  heroine's  face  ?  " 

"  Good  female  models  are  hard  to  find.  My 
heroine  should  be  worthy  of  my  hero.  Have  you 
one  of  your  own,  whose  features  I  might  insert  ?" 

"  Have  I  found  my  heroine  ?  Not  yet,  —  that 
is,  not  certainly." 

Dreeme  handed  me  the  third  picture.  "  My 
Incognita,"  said  he,  "  is  willing  to  encounter 
bad  company  out  of  gratitude  to  her  benefactors. 
Please  appreciate  the  compliment !  " 

Third  picture.  Scene,  the  same  splendid  salon 
of  the  same  chateau.  Without,  instead  of  the 
sans  culottes,  a  group  of  soldiers  of  the  Republic 
stood  on  guard.  Within,  the  same  dark-haired 
lady,  —  costume,  yellow  satin  (it  reminded  me 
of  that  coverlet  of  Louis  Philippe's  which  had 
served  Dreeme  for  wrapper),  —  the  same  heroine 
as  in  the  second  picture,  sat  with  her  back  to 
the  spectator.  At  a  table  beside  her  was  an 
official  personage,  signing  a  passport.  He  was 
dressed  with  careful  coxcombry  in  Robespierre's 
favorite  color,  and  resembled  that  demon  slightly, 
but  enough  to  recall  him.  Behind  him,  I  —  yes, 
I  myself  again  —  could  be  seen  through  a  half- 
opened  closet-door,  sullenly  sheathing  my  sword 
in  obedience  to  a  sign  from  the  lady.  Locksley 
also  was  there,  in  blouse  and  stealthy  bare  feet, 
playing  prudence  to  valor  and  holding  me  back. 


CECIL  DREEME.  219 

"  Ah !  "  said  I,  "  another  person  with  us  in  the 
pillory  of  your  picture.  Strange  !  Your  Robe- 
spierre  might  almost  be  a  portrait  of  Densdeth." 

"  Indeed !  It  is  a  typical  bad  face,  and  may 
resemble  several  bad  men." 

"  Singularly  like  Densdeth  !  "  I  repeated. 
"  The  same  cold-blooded  resolve,  the  same  latent 
sneer,  the  same  suppressed  triumph,  even  the 
coxcombry  you  have  given  to  your  gentle  butcher 
of  '93,  —  all  are  Densdeth's.  May  you  not  have 
seen  and  remembered  his  marked  face  ?  " 

"  Possibly."  He  evaded  my  inquiring  look,  as 
he  replied. 

"  Perhaps  he  has  stared  at  you  for  an  instant 
in  a  crowd.  Perhaps  you  have  caught  a  look  of 
his  from  the  window  of  a  railroad-car.  He  may 
at  some  moment,  without  your  conscious  notice, 
have  stamped  himself  ineifaceably  upon  your 
mind." 

"It  may  be.  An  artist's  brain  receives  and 
stores  images  often  without  distinct  volition. 
But  you  may  lend  my  villain  a  likeness  from 
your  own  memory." 

"  Yes ;  our  talk  about  Densdeth,  and  your 
warnings  against  an  exaggerated  danger  are  fresh 
in  my  mind.  Certainly,  as  I  see  the  face,  it  is 
Densdeth's  very  self." 

"  Now,"  said  Dreeme,  "  take  your  choice  of  my 
three  sketches.  Three  simple  stories,  —  which 


220  CECIL   DREEME. 

will  you  have  ?  I  painted  them  for  your  selec 
tion,  and  have  taken  much  grateful  pleasure  in 
the  work.  One  is  for  you,  one  for  Locksley,  one 
for  myself,  —  a  souvenir  for  each  of  us  in  happier 
days." 

"  Mine  will  be  precious  as  a  souvenir,  apart 
from  its  great  value  as  Art.  And,  let  me  tell 
you,  Dreeme,  in  their  manner,  these  studies  are 
as  able  as  your  Lear.  The  anecdotes  hold  their 
own  with  the  tragedy.  I  believe  you  are  the  man 
we  have  been  waiting  for." 

"  Your  praise  thrills  me." 

"  Do  not  let  it  spoil  you,"  said  I,  willing  in  my 
turn  to  act  the  Mentor. 

"  Mr.  Byng,"  said  he  gravely,  "  my  life  has 
been  so  deepened  and  solemnized  by  earnest 
trial  and  bitter  experience,  that  vanity  is,  I  trust, 
annihilated.  I  shall  do  my  work  faithfully,  be 
cause  my  nature  commands  me  to  it ;  but  I  can 
never  have  the  exultant  feeling  of  personal  pride 
in  it  as  mine." 

"  That  too  is  a  legitimate  joy.  You  will  have 
it  when  the  world  gives  you  its  verdict,  <  Well 
done.' " 

Dreeme  sighed,  and  seemed  to  shrink  away. 

"  To  face  the  world !  "  said  he, — "  how  dare  I? 
And  yet  I  must.  My  scanty  means  will  not  last 
me  many  weeks  longer." 

"  My  dear  Dreeme,"  said  I,  "  my  purse  is  not 


CECIL  DREEME.  221 

insolent  with  fulness ;  but  it  holds  enough  to 
keep  two  spiritual  beings,  like  ourselves,  in  oys 
ters  and  ale,  slaw  and  '  Wing's  pethy,'  — crackers 
being  thrown  in." 

"  Thank  you,"  said  he,  smiling ;  "  but  I  sup 
pose  I  must  go  out  into  daylight,  brave  my  fate, 
and  take  my  risk." 

"  There  is  no  risk.     You  must  succeed." 

"  Ah ! "  said  he,  and  tears  stood  in  his  great 
sad  eyes  ;  "  I  speak  of  another  risk.  Of  another 
danger,  which  I  shudder  at.  Here  I  am  safe, 
unharming  and  unharmed.  How  can  I  take  up 
my  life's  responsibilities  again  ?  " 

"  Dreeme,"  said  I,  "  in  any  other  but  you,  I 
should  almost  say  that  these  fancies  were  un 
manly." 

He  evaded  my  eye,  as  I  said  this,  but  did  not 
seem  insulted. 

"  But,"  I  continued,  "  there  is  a  certain  kind 
of  courage  in  your  working  here  alone, — enough 
to  establish  your  character.  If  you  want  a  rough 
pugilistic  ally  against  this  mysterious  peril  of 
yours,  take  me  into  your  confidence.  Here  are 
my  fists !  they  are  yours.  What  ogre  shall  I  hit  ? 
What  dragon  shall  I  choke  ?  " 

"  You  are  neglecting  my  poor  gift,"  said  he, 
resolutely  changing  the  subject ;  "  make  your 
choice  of  the  three  pictures,  and  I  will  show  you 
my  portfolio  of  drawings.  You  shall  see  what 


222  CECIL  DREEME. 

my  fingers  do  when  they  obey  the  dictates  of  my 
careless  fancy." 

"  I  choose  the  third  of  the  series.  Neither 
of  those  where  I  or  my  semblance  is  the  chief 
figure,  —  neither  where  I  am  doing,  but  where 
I  am  receiving  the  favor.  My  only  regret  is 
that  I  cannot  look  through  the  back  of  her  hea'd 
and  see  the  features  of  the  lady,  whose  gesture 
tells  me,  <  Sheathe  sword  and  swallow  ire ! ' 
Robespierre  —  Densdeth  too,  that  adds  to  its 
value.  I  must  hang  it  up  where  he  can  see  it. 
I  am  curious  to  know  whether  he  will  recog 
nize  himself." 

"0  no !  Promise  me  that  you  will  not  show 
it  at  present.  No,  not  to  any  one ! " 

"  What,  not  identify  myself  with  the  debut  of 
the  coming  man  ?  May  I  not  be  your  herald  ?  " 

"  Wait,  at  least,  till  I  am  ready  to  follow  up 
the  announcement  of  my  coming.  No  prema 
ture  paeans,  if  you  please !  " 

"  I  obey,  of  course.  But  I  should  vastly  like 
to  show  it  to  Towers,  Sion,  and  Pensal.  You 
know  I  have  a  growing  intimacy  with  that  trio 
of  great  artists.  They  would  heartily  welcome 
your  advent." 

"  Spare  me  the  dread  of  their  condemnation ! 
Keep  my  little  gift  to  yourself,  at  present ! 
Here  is  my  heap  of  drawings.  Look  at  them, 
and  judge  with  your  usual  kindness  ! " 


CECIL  DREEME.  223 

"  So  these  were  the  thoughts  too  hot  for  your 
brain  to  hold.  These  represent  what  you  must 
say,  not  what  you  chose  to  say.  I  perceive  that 
the  bent  of  your  mind  is  not  toward  tragedy." 

Very  masterly  sketches  they  were !  A  fine 
fancy,  a  subtle  imagination,  a  large  heart,  had 
conceived  them,  an  accurate  and  severe  artistic 
sense  had  controlled  and  developed  the  thought, 
and  an  unerring  hand  had  executed  it.  Dreeme 
was  a  youth,  certainly  not  more  than  twenty- 
one  ;  and  yet  here  was  the  maturity  of  complete 
manhood.  Whether  he  had  had  opportunities 
for  studying  classic  art,  or  whether  his  genius 
had  seized  in  common  life  that  fine  quality 
which  we  name  "  classic,"  these  drawings  of  his 
would  have  stood  the  test  with  the  purest  of 
the  Italian  masters,  in  the  days  before  Italian 
art  had  suffered  blight,  —  that  blight  which  be 
fell  it  when  progress  ceased  in  the  laud,  and 
a  tyrannical  Church  bade  the  nation  pause  and 
let  the  world  go  by. 

Dreeme's  female  figures  were  not  drawn  with 
the  liberal  and  almost  riotous  fancy  of  youth, 
which  loves  floating  and  flaunting  draperies  and 
a  bold  display  of  the  nude.  A  chaster  feeling 
had  presided  over  the  studies  of  this  fine  genius. 
There  was  a  severe  simplicity  in  his  drawings 
of  women.  He  seemed  to  have  approached  the 
purer  sex  with  a  loving  reverence,  never  with 


224  CECIL  DREEME. 

that  coarse  freedom  which  debases  the  work  of 
many  able  men,  nullifying  all  spiritual  beauty. 
One  would  say  that  the  artist  of  these  draw 
ings  had  taken  his  mother  and  his  sisters  as 
models  for  the  elevated  and  saintly  beings,  whom 
he  had  placed  in  scenes  of  calm  beauty,  and 
engaged  in  tender  offices  of  mercy,  pity,  and 
pardon.  I  could  safely  name  him  Raphael- Angeli- 
co,  —  the  title  saves  me  longer  criticism. 

Strangely  enough,  —  and  here  I  recognized 
either  a  wound  in  Dreeme's  life  or  a  want  in 
his  character,  —  there  was  not  one  scene  of  love 
—  that  is,  the  love  Cupid  manages  —  in  the  col 
lection.  Not  one  scene  where  lovers,  happy  or 
hapless,  figured.  No  pretty  picture  of  consent 
and  fondness.  Not  one  of  passion  and  fervor. 

Now,  a  young  man  or  a  young  maiden,  in 
the  early  twenties,  in  whose  mind  love  is  not 
the  primal  thought,  is  a  monstrosity,  and  must 
be  studied  and  analyzed  with  a  view  to  cure. 

Either  Dreeme's  nature  was  still  in  the  crude, 
green  state,  unripened  by  passion,  or  he  had 
suffered  so  bitterly  from  some  treachery  in  love 
that  he  could  not  reawaken  the  memory.  Either 
he  was  ignorant  of  love's  sweet  torture,  or  he 
had  felt  the  agony,  without  the  healing  touch. 

I  suspected  the  latter. 

Often,  recently,  as  my  relations  with  Dreeme 
grew  closer,  I  had  been  conscious  of  a  peculiar 


CECIL  DREEME.  225 

jealous  curiosity.  I  was  now  his  nearest  friend. 
But  had  he  not  had  a  nearer  ?  If  not  in  my 
sex,  in  the  other  ?  It  was  under  the  influence 
of  this  jealousy,  that  I  said,  — 

"  It  seems  almost  an  impertinence,  Dreeme, 
to  suggest  a  negative  fault  in  this  collection  of 
admirable  drawings  ;  but  I  perceive  a  want.  The 
subject  of  love,  —  the  love  that  presses  hands 
and  kisses  lips,  the  tender  passion,  —  had  you 
nothing  to  say  of  it  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  he,  "  I  am  too  young." 

"  Bah !  you  are  past  twenty." 

"  Twenty-one  —  the  very  day  of  your  coming." 

"  Too  young !  why,  as  for  me,  I  was  in  love 
while  my  upper  lip  was  only  downy.  The 
passion  increased  as  that  feature  began  to  be 
districted  off  with  hairs,  stalwart,  but  sporadic. 
And  ever  since  I  have  grown  up  to  a  real  mous 
tache,  with  ends  that  can  be  twirled,  I  have 
been  in  love,  or  just  out  and  waiting  to  jump 
or  tumble  in  again,  the  whole  time." 

"How  is  it  now?" 

"  I  hardly  know.  In  love  ?  or  almost  in  ? 
Which  ?  In,  I  believe.  I  am  tempted  to  offer 
you  a  confidence." 

"  I  would  rather  not,"  said  Dreeme,  uneasily. 

"  0  yes  ;  you  shall  interpret  my  feelings.  I 
admire  a  woman,  whom  it  seems  to  me  that  I 
should  love  devotedly,  if  she  were  a  little  other 
10*  o 


226  CECIL   DREEME. 

than  she  is,  —  herself  touched  with  a  diviner 
delicacy,  —  her  own  sister  self,  a  little  angel- 
ized." 

Dreeme  evaded  my  questioning  look,  and  made 
no  reply.  I  paused  a  moment,  while  he  paint 
ed  a  jewel,  flashing  on  the  white  neck  of  his 
Goneril. 

"  Come,"  said  I,  "  my  Mentor,  do  not  dodge 
responsibility!  Your  reply  may  affect  my  des 
tiny." 

He  met  my  glance  now,  and  replied,  without 
hesitation,  "  Love  that  admits  questions  is  no 
love." 

"  Perhaps  I  am  suffering  the  penalty  for  the 
inconstant  mood  I  have  permitted  myself  here 
tofore.  Perhaps  I  only  want  a  steady  and  sin 
cere  purpose  to  love  and  trust,  and  I  shall  do 
so." 

"  Beware  such  perilous  doubts  !  "  said  he  ear 
nestly.  "  With  a  generous  character  like  yours, 
they  lead  to  illusions.  You  will  presently,  out 
of  self-reproach  for  at  all  doubting  the  woman 
you  fancy,  pass  into  a  blind  confidence,  and  so 
win  some  miserable  shock,  perhaps  too  late." 

"  Cassandra  again  !  Cassandra  in  the  other 
sex." 

"  Do  not  say  Cassandra !  that  proves  you  in 
tend  to  disdain  my  warning." 

"  Dear  me  !  what  solemn  business  we  are  mak- 


CECIL   DREEME.  227 

ing  of  my  little  flirtation !  —  a  flirtation  all  on. 
my  side,  by  the  way.  In  fact,  I  really  believe 
I  have  cleared  my  head  of  my  vague  doubts  of 
the  unknown  lady  in  question.  They  only  needed 
to  be  put  into  words,  in  presence  of  a  third  party, 
to  seem,  as  you  say,  utterly  ungenerous." 

"  I  am  sorry  that  you  forced  the  confidence 
upon  me,  —  very  sorry!  But  you  would  have 
it  so." 

"  You  talk  as  if  you  knew  the  lady,  and  con 
sidered  her  unfitted  for  me." 

"  Believe  that  I  have  discernment  enough, 
knowing  you,  to  know  the  class  of  woman  who 
in  this  phase  of  your  life  will  necessarily  attract 
you.  I  can  divine  whom,  —  that  is,  what  manner 
of  person  you  will  choose  for  a  love,  since  you 
have  characterized  the  man  you  are  fascinated 
by  as  an  intimate." 

"  Oh !  you  mean  Densdeth." 

"  Yes  ;  while  you  allow  him  to  dominate  you, — 
and  mind,  I  take  my  impression  from  yourself,  — 
you  will  naturally  seek  a  counterpart  of  his  in 
the  other  sex." 

I  grew  ill  at  ease  under  this  penetrating  analy 
sis  of  my  secret  feelings. 

It  was,  of  course,  of  Emma  Denman  that  I 
had  spoken. 

Emma  Denman  was  the  woman  I  deemed  my 
self  on  the  verge  of  loving. 


228  CECIL   DKEEME. 

It  was  she  whom  I  felt  that  I  did  not  love,  and 
yet  ought  to  love.  It  was  she  whom  I  should 
have  loved,  without  any  shadow  of  hesitation, 
if  she  had  been  herself  touched  with  a  diviner 
feminineness,  her  own  sister  self,  a  thought  more 
angelic. 

I  had  sometimes  had  a  painful  lurking  con 
sciousness  that  if  I  were  nobler  than  I  was,  —  if 
my  mind  were  more  resolutely  made  up  and 
unwavering  on  the  side  of  virtue,  —  I  should 
have  applied  the  test  of  a  higher  and  purer 
nature  on  my  side  to  Emma  Denman,  and  found 
her  in  some  way  fatally  wanting.  But  whenever 
this  injurious  fancy  stirred  within  me,  I  quelled 
it,  saying,  "  If  I  were  nobler,  I  should  not  have 
morbid  notions  about  others.  How  can  you 
learn  to  trust  women-  while  you  allow  yourself 
daily  to  listen,  and  only  carelessly  to  protest, 
when  Densdeth  urges  his  doctrine,  that  women 
and  men  only  wait  opportunity  to  be  base  ?  " 

In  fact,  in  violation  of  an  instinct,  I  was  go 
ing  through  the  process  of  resolving  to  love  Em 
ma  Denman,  because  I  distrusted  her,  and  such 
vague  distrust  seemed  an  unchivalric  disloyalty, 
a  cruel  wrong  to  a  friend. 

The  strange  coincidence  of  Dreeme's  warning 
determined  me  to  banish  my  superstitions.  No 
more  of  this  weakness !  I  would  cultivate,  or,  as 
I  persuaded  myself,  frankly  yield  to  my  passion 


CECIL  DKEEME.  229 

for  my  childish  flame,  love  her,  and  do  my  best 
to  win  her.  I  saw  now  how  baseless  were  my 
doubts,  when  they  came  to  be  stated  in  words. 
Indeed,  there  was  no  name  for  one  of  these  misty 
beings  of  the  mind. 

All  this  flashed  across  my  mind  as  I  continued 
mechanically  turning  over  Dreeme's  drawings. 
With  the  thought  came  the  resolve.  I  would  no 
more  begrudge  my  faith.  I  would  love  Emma 
Denman,  and  by  love  make  myself  worthy  of  it. 

"  The  fleeting  purpose  never  is  o'ertook 
Unless  the  deed  go  with  it," 

I  half  murmured  to  myself,  and  so,  taking  my 
leave  of  Dreeme  for  the  morning,  I  passed  to 
Denman' s  house. 

From  that  time,  I  was  the  undeclared  lover  of 
Emma  Denman,  as  I  shall  presently  describe. 

And  you,  Cecil  Dreeme,  —  it  was  your  warn 
ing  that  urged  me  so  perversely  to  do  violence 
to  an  unerring  instinct. 

How  strangely  and  fatally  we  interfere,  uncon 
sciously,  for  one  another's  bliss  or  bale  ! 

Churm  away ; 

Densdeth  my  intimate  ; 

Cecil  Dreeme  my  friend  of  friends ; 

Emma  Denman  almost  my  love. 

So  matters  stood  with  me  and  the  other  char 
acters  of  this  drama,  two  months  from  the  day 
of  my  instalment  in  Chrysalis. 


230  CECIL   DREEME. 

But  let  it  not  be  understood  that  I  had  nothing 
to  do  except  to  study  these  few  persons.  My 
days  were  full,  and  often  my  nights,  with  hard 
and  absorbing  work  I  had  undertaken  in  my 
profession.  I  touched  the  world  on  many  sides. 
I  came  into  collision  with  various  characters. 
I  had  my  daily  life,  like  other  men,  —  my  real 
life,  if  you  will,  that  handled  substances,  and  did 
not  deal  in  mysteries.  This  I  am  not  describing. 
I  am  at  pains  to  eliminate  every  fact  and  thought 
of  mine  which  did  not  bear  immediately  upon 
the  development  of  the  story  I  here  compel  my 
self  to  write. 


CHAPTER    XIX. 

CAN  THIS  BE  LOVE  ? 

MEANTIME  my  intimacy  with  the  Denmans  had 
been  growing  closer. 

With  me  Mr.  Denman  laid  aside  his  usual 
manner,  a  mixture  of  reserve  and  uneasiness. 
He  forgot  his  preoccupations,  and  talked  with 
me  frankly. 

"  If  I  had  had  a  son,  Byng,"  said  he,  "  I  could 
have  wished  him  a  young  man  like  yourself.  I 
suppose  you  will  not  quarrel  with  me  if  I  expend 
a  little  fatherliness  on  you." 

I  was  touched  by  this  kindness.  My  distrust 
of  him  wore  away.  It  is  my  nature  to  think 
gently  and  tenderly  of  others.  I  was  in  those 
relations  with  Mr.  Denman  where  one  sees  the 
better  side  of  character.  I  shared  his  liberal 
hospitality.  I  perceived  that  he  did  not  love 
wealth  for  itself,  but  as  power  ;  and  that  he  used 
this  power  often  judiciously,  always  generously. 
The  vanity  of  exercising  power,  the  mistake  of 
fancying  himself  a  being  of  higher  order  than 
men  of  lesser  influence,  he  seemed  to  have  out- 


232  CECIL   DREEME. 

grown.  And  the  power,  with  its  duties  attached, 
he  often  found  a  weary  burden.  I  saw  him 
a  tired  and  saddened  man,  thankful  for  the  fresh 
ening  friendship  of  his  junior.  I  gave  him  mine 
frankly. 

Could  such  a  man  be  called,  as  Churm  had 
harshly  called  him,  the  murderer  of  his  daugh 
ter  ?  Surely  not !  I  might  believe  him  to  have 
erred  in  that  business;  I  could  not  deem  him 
criminal.  And,  justifying  him,  I  even  did  injus 
tice  to  the  memory  of  the  dead  Clara.  Who 
knew  what  undiscovered  or  unpublished  sorrow 
ful  motive  she  might  not  have  had  for  a  suicide  ? 
The  dead  have  no  friends  to  justify  them. 

But  there  was  another  reason  for  my  favorable 
judgment  on  Mr.  Denman.  I  loved,  or  thought 
I  loved,  or  wished  that  I  loved,  his  daughter. 

Ever  since  my  conversation  with  Cecil  Dreeme, 
I  had  encouraged  this  passion.  I  had  seen  Emma 
Denman  frequently,  then  constantly  ;  it  was  now 
every  day. 

Her  fascination  grew  in  power.  There  was  a 
certain  effort  in  it ;  but  what  man  disputes  a 
woman's  right  to  make  effort  to  please  him  ? 
With  me  her  manner  was  anxious,  and  even  agi 
tated.  Other  men,  now  that  the  blackness  of 
first  mourning  was  past,  began  to  be  at  the  house. 
Them  she  treated  with  civil  indifference,  or  indif 
ferent  cordiality,  as  they  merited.  With  me  she 


CECIL  DREEME.  233 

seemed  always  eagerly  striving  that  I  should  not 
misapprehend  her,  always  protesting  against  some 
possibility  of  a  false  impression. 

Ah !  now  that  I  look  back  upon  it  all,  how  I 
pity  her!  No  wonder  that  she  grew  thin  and 
worn !  No  wonder  that  her  gayety  often  struck 
me  as  forced  or  fantastic !  When  it  did  so 
seem,  I  said  to  myself  that  she  was  determined 
not  to  be  crushed  by  that  sad  tragedy  of  her 
sister's  death.  I  did  not  dream  that  her  eager 
moods  were  tokens  of  the  desperate  struggle 
she  was  making  against  the  inevitable  tragedy 
of  her  own  life. 

Shall  I  go  through  all  the  history  of  the  pro 
gress  of  my  passion  ?  Shall  I  say  how,  day  by 
day,  my  sympathy  for  this  motherless,  sisterless 
girl  deepened,  —  how  I  sorrowed  for  her  that, 
amid  all  the  splendor  of  her  life,  her  heart  was 
sad  and  empty,  and  so  the  life  a  vain  show  ? 
how  I,  dreading  what  might  be  the  fate  of  her 
father's  wealth,  pleased  myself  with  the  thought 
that,  if  disaster  befell  him,  I  could  offer  her  the 
home  and  the  heart  of  a  hopeful  working-man  ? 
Shall  I  re-edit  such  an  old,  old  story,  with  the  new 
illustrations  drawn  from  my  own  experience  ? 

I  shrink  from  the  task  of  opening  an  ancient 
wound. 

I  shrink,  but  yet  I  force  myself  to  the  anguish. 

And  time  has  changed  that  bygone  grief  into  a 


234  CECIL  DREEME. 

lesson.  I  must  write.  No  matter  how  dark,  the 
story  shall  be  told.  Every  man's  precious  or 
costly  experience  belongs  to  every  brother-man. 
No  man  may  be  a  miser  of  the  sorrows  by  which 
he  has  bought  the  power  to  be  strong,  to  be 
tender,  to  pardon  the  weak  and  the  guilty.  Per 
haps  by  some  warning  I  here  utter  I  may  per 
suade  a  young  and  hesitating  soul  to  shudder 
back  from  the  brink  of  sin.  Often  a  timely  trifle 
of  a  gentle  word  of  admonition  has  struck  a  foully 
fair  temptation  dead.  I  know  how  the  recurring 
fragrance  of  a  flower  that  childhood  loved,  how 
the  far-away  sound  of  breakers  on  a  beach  where 
childhood  wandered,  how  a  weft  of  cloud,  how 
the  leap  of  a  sunbeam,  how  the  sudden  jubilant 
carol  of  a  bird,  how  a  portrait  of  the  pure  Ma 
donna  on  the  wall,  how  a  chance  line  on  an  open 
page,  —  how  any  such  momentous  trifle  will  save 
a  wavering  soul  from  a  treachery  or  a  crime,  — 
will  interpose  an  instant's  check,  and  rescue  the 
life  from  a  remorse,  guarding  it  for  a  repent 
ance.  Yes ;  whatever  agony  it  costs  me  to  revive 
this  old  history,  I  do  now,  after  its  lesson  is  fully 
thought  out,  of  my  sober  judgment,  revive  it,  — 
let  who  will  murmur,  "  Bad  taste  !  "  let  who  will 
cry  out,  "  Unhealthy  !  "  let  who  will  sigh,  "  Alas  ! 
have  we  not  our  own  griefs  ?  why  burden  us 
with  yours  ?  " 

Did  I,  or  not,  love  Emma  Denman  ?     Why 


CECIL  DREEME.  235 

could  I  not  determine  this  question  ?  I  had 
my  friends  among  men.  Closest  among  these 
was  Cecil  Dreeme ;  his  friendship  I  deemed 
more  precious  than  the  love  of  women.  But 
among  women,  no  other,  none,  was  at  all  so 
charming  to  me  as  Emma. 

She  was  to  me  far  more  beautiful  than  any 
beauty,  —  infinitely  more  beautiful,  always,  than 
any  of  those  round,  full,  red  beauties  who  are 
steadily  supplied  to  the  city  market,  overt  or 
covert,  for  wives  or  mistresses  to  the  men  who 
pay  money  for  either,  and  have  nothing  but 
money  to  give. 

She  was  brilliant,  frivolously  brilliant  per 
haps  ;  but  we  pardon  a  dash  of  frivolity  in  a 
young  woman  of  fashion,  all  her  life  flattered 
and  caressed,  and  untrained  by  daily  contact 
with  men  of  strong  minds  and  women  of  strong 
hearts. 

Emma  Denman  stood  just  on  the  hither  brink 
of  genius.  It  seemed  that,  if  some  magnificent 
emotion,  some  heart-opening  joy  or  grief,  could 
befall  her,  she  would  suddenly  be  promoted  to 
become  herself,  and  that  self  a  genius.  If  she 
could  be  once  in  earnest,  she  would  be  a  noble 
woman.  Such  a  character  has  a  mighty  charm 
to  a  lover.  He  stirs  himself  with  the  thought 
that  his  love  may  give  the  awakening  touch; 
that  his  passion  may  supply  the  ripening  flame, 
and  win  the  bud  to  bloom. 


236  CECIL  DEEEME. 

Iii  music,  in  art,  in  thought,  I  felt  that 
Emma  Denman  needed  but  one  step  to  stand 
on  the  heights  among  the  inspired.  She  seemed 
to  feel  this  also,  and  to  be  always  pleading  tacitly 
with  me  to  give  her  the  slight  aid  she  needed. 
She  could  not  pass  into  the  realms  of  the  di 
vine  liberty  of  genius,  for  some  gossamer  wall, 
invisible  to  all  but  her,  and  against  her  strong 
as  adamant. 

I  was  terrified  sometimes  by  her  keenness  of 
insight  into  bad  motives,  her  comprehension  of 
the  labyrinthine  causes  of  bad  acts.  It  is  a  per 
ilous  knowledge.  We  must  pay  price  for  power. 
How  had  she  bought  this  unerring  perception 
of  the  laws  of  evil  ?  How  came  she  by  this 
aged  possession  in  her  first  youth  ? 

How?  I  quelled  my  uneasiness  with  the 
thought  that  the  sensitive  touch  of  innocence 
is  warned  away  from  poisoned  blossoms  by  the 
clammy  airs  that  hang  about  them,  and  so  re 
coils,  and  will  not  pluck  the  flower  or  gather 
the  fruit.  I  said  that  the  mere  dread  of  evil 
will  instruct  a  virgin  soul  where  are  those  paths 
of  evil  it  must  shun.  I  said  it  is  better  to  know 
sin  and  shun  it,  than  to  half  ignore  and  half 
evade. 

Since  our  first  interview,  our  relations  had 
grown  more  and  more  intimate  without  check. 
We  named  them  brotherly  and  sisterly,  as  they 


CECIL  DREEME.  237 

had  been  in  our  childish  days.  She  claimed 
the  sister's  privilege  of  presiding  over  my  social 
life,  and  aiding  me  to  make  a  choice  in  love. 

Miss  Denman  led  me  about  the  grand  round 
of  society.  She  took  me  to  see  the  belles  for 
beauty,  the  belles  for  money,  the  belles  for  wit, 
the  belles  for  magnetism,  the  belles  for  blood. 
And  all  of  them  she  drew  out  to  show  their  most 
attractive  side,  in  fact,  their  better  and  more 
genuine  nature.  She  persuaded  each  to  reveal 
that  the  belle  had  not  addled  the  woman. 

And  then  she  wondered  that  she  could  not 
persuade  me  to  fall  in  love  with  one  of  these 
ladies. 

I  could  not,  of  course,  if  only  because  her 
process  made  her  appear  superior  to  them  all. 
I  admired  the  kindliness  with  which  she  strove 
to  put  sparkle  into  the  stupid  girls,  to  dignify 
the  trifling,  to  refine  the  vulgar,  —  and  the 
teacher  was  to  me  an  infinitely  finer  being  than 
her  scholars  ever  could  become. 

And  so  I  told  her,  —  but  never  yet  with  the 
words  of  a  lover. 

And  so  she  insisted  I  should  not  think,  —  not 
craftily  and  with  systematic  coquetry.  No,  poor 
child  !  Ah,  no  !  I  acquit  her  of  all  such  slight 
wiles  and  surface  hypocrisy.  But  how  could  I 
know  that  she  was  sincerely  striving  to  save  us 
both  from  the  tragedy  of  a  mutual  love  ? 


238  CECIL   DREEME. 

And  did  I  love  her  ?  The  question  implied  a 
doubt,  where  there  should  be  only  undoubting 
conviction  and  compelling  impulse. 

Why  doubt,  Robert  Byng  ? 

There  was  surely  no  other  affection  in  my 
heart  that  I  was  playing  false.  Surely  none. 
My  heart  was  free  from  any  love  of  woman. 

And  my  doubt  was  based  upon  a  suspicion. 

A  suspicion !  of  what  ? 

If  I  at  all  stated  to  myself,  however  faintly, 
what,  it  seemed  to  me  such  disloyalty  that  I  de 
spised  myself  for  entertaining  the  unwholesome 
thought. 

"  You  are  not  fit,"  I  said,  "  for  the  society  of  a 
pure  woman  !  Densdeth  has  spoilt  you." 

Thus  I  trained  my  affection  the  more  tenderly 
for  its  weakness.  Thus,  ignorant  and  rejecting 
the  sure  law  of  nature,  I  strove  to  create  the 
uncreatable,  to  construct  what  should  have  come 
into  being  and  grown  strong  without  interference, 
even  without  consciousness  of  mine.  Thus  I 
began  to  deem  the  sentiment  I  was  manufactur 
ing  out  of  ruth  and  a  loyal  intention,  as  genu 
ine,  heart-felt  love. 

Bitter  error !     And  to  be  punished  bitterly ! 


CHAPTER    XX. 

A  NOCTURNE. 

NIGHT  !     Night  in  the  great  city ! 

Night !  when  the  sun,  the  eye  of  God,  leaves 
men  to  their  own  devices ;  when  the  moon  is  so 
faint,  and  the  stars  so  far  away  in  the  infinite, 
that  their  inspection  and  record  are  forgotten ; 
when  Light,  the  lawgiver  and  orderer  of  human 
life,  withdraws,  and  mankind  are  free  to  break  or 
obey  the  commands  daylight  has  taught  them. 

Night!  when  the  gas-lights,  relit,  reawaken 
harmful  purposes,  that  had  slept  through  all  the 
hours  of  honest  sunshine  in  their  lairs ;  when 
the  tigers  and  tigresses  take  their  stand  where 
their  prey  will  be  sure  to  come ;  when  the  rustic 
in  the  peaceful  country,  with  leaves  whispering 
and  crickets  singing  around  him,  sees  a  glow  on 
the  distant  horizon,  and  wonders  if  the  bad  city 
beneath  it  be  indeed  abandoned  of  its  godly  men, 
and  burning  for  its  crimes.  Night !  the  day  of 
the  base,  the  guilty,  and  the  desolate ! 

Every  evening,  when  it  was  possible,  of  that 
late  winter  and  wintry  spring.  I  abandoned  club, 


240  CECIL   DREEME. 

parlor,  and  ball-room,  and  all  the  attractions  of 
the  brilliant  world,  to  wander  with  Cecil  Dreeme 
about  the  gas-lit  city,  and  study  the  side  it  showed 
to  night.  And  yet  the  phenomena  of  vice  and 
crime,  my  companion  refused  to  consider  fit  ob 
jects  of  curiosity.  Vice  and  crime  were  tacitly 
avoided  by  us.  Dreeme's  nature  repelled  even 
the  thought  of  them.  I  was  happy  to  know  one 
solitary  man  whose  mind  the  consciousness  of 
evil  could  not  make  less  virgin. 

It  chanced  one  evening,  a  fortnight  after  our 
conversation  when  Dreeme  gave  me  the  picture, 
that  walking  as  usual,  and  quite  late,  we  passed 
the  Opera-House.  Some  star  people  were  giving 
an  extra  performance  on  an  off  night.  The  last 
act  of  an  heroic  opera  was  just  beginning.  Dreeme 
hummed  the  final  air,  —  a  noble  burst  of  triumph 
over  a  victory  bought  by  a  martyrdom. 

"  Your  song  makes  me  hungry  to  hear  more," 
said  I. 

"  I  have  been  almost  starving  for  music,"  he 
rejoined. 

"  Come  in,  then.  You  can  take  your  stand  in 
the  lobby,  with  your  mysterious  cloak  about  you, 
and  slouched  hat  over  your  eyes.  I  defy  your 
best  friend  or  worst  foe  to  know  you." 

"  No,  no !  "  said  he,  nervously ;  "  in  the  glare 
of  a  theatre  I  should  excite  suspicion.  I  should 
be  seen." 


CECIL  DREEME.  241 

"  And  pounced  upon  and  hurried  off  to  du 
rance  vile  ?  "  said  I,  lightly  enough ;  for  I  began 
at  last  to  fancy  that  his  panic  of  concealment  was 
the  sole  disorder  of  a  singularly  healthy  brain. 
"  Well,  I  will  not  urge  it.  I  cannot  spare  you. 
I  am  selfish.  I  should  soon  go  to  the  bad  with 
out  my  friend  and  Mentor." 

"  It  is  strange,"  said  Dreeme,  bitterly,  "  that 
I,  with  a  soul  white  as  daylight,  should  be  com 
pelled  to  lurk  about  like  a  guilty  thing,  —  to  be 
as  one  dead  and  buried." 

"  I  thank  the  mystery  that  secludes  you  for 
my  benefit,  Dreeme,"  I  said.  "  I  dread  the  time 
when  you  will  find  a  thousand  friends,  and  many 
closer  than  I." 

He  dropped  his  cloak  and  took  my  arm.  It 
was  the  first  time  he  had  given  me  this  slight 
token  of  intimacy.  We  had  been  very  distant  in 
our  personal  intercourse.  I  am  not  a  man  to 
slap  another  on  the  back,  shake  him  by  the  shoul 
der,  punch  him  in  the  ribs,  or  indulge  in  any  rude 
play  or  coarse  liberties.  Yet  there  is  a  certain 
familiarity  among  men,  by  which  we,  after  our 
roughish  and  unbeautiful  fashion,  mean  as  much 
tenderness  for  our  friends  as  women  do  by  their 
sweet  embraces  and  caresses.  Nothing  of  this 
kind  had  ever  passed  between  Dreeme  and  me. 
His  reserve  and  self-dependence  had  made  me 
feel  that  it  would  be  an  impertinence  to  offer 
11  p 


242  CECIL   DKEEME. 

even  that  kind  of  bodily  protection  which  a  big 
ger  man  holds  ready  for  a  lesser  and  slighter. 

It  surprised  me,  then,  a  little,  when  Dreeme, 
for  the  first  time,  took  my  arm  familiarly. 

"You  have  been  a  kind  friend  to  me,  Mr. 
Byng,"  said  he ;  "  there  are  not  many  men  in 
the  world  who  would  have  treated  my  retirement 
with  such  delicate  forbearance  and  good  faith." 

"  Do  not  give  me  too  much  credit.  I  have 
been  a  selfish  friend.  I  know  that  I  am  a  facile 
person,  something  of  the  chameleon  ;  I  need  the 
fairer  colors  in  contact  with  me  to  keep  me  from 
becoming  an  ugly  brown  reptile.  Having  this 
adaptability  of  character,  I  have  had  very  close 
relations  with  many  of  the  best  and  noblest ;  but 
of  all  the  men  I  have  ever  known,  your  society 
charms  me  most  penetratingly.  All  the  poetry 
in  my  nature  being  latent,  I  need  precisely  you 
to  bring  it  to  the  surface.  The  feminine  element 
is  largely  developed  in  you,  as  a  poetic  artist.  It 
precisely  supplies  the  want  which  a  sisterless  and 
motherless  man,  like  myself,  has  always  felt. 
Your  influence  over  me  is  inexpressibly  bland 
and  soothing.  You  certainly  are  my  good  spirit. 
I  like  you  so  much,  that  I  have  been  quite  con 
tent  with  your  isolation  ;  I  get  you  all  to  myself. 
These  walks  with  you,  since  that  famous  oyster 
supper,  the  very  day  of  my  return  home,  have 
been  the  chief  feature  of  my  life.  I  count  my 


CECIL   DREEME.  243 

hour  with  you  as  the  pay  for  my  scuffle  with  the 
world.  A  third  party  would  spoil  the  whole  ! 
What  would  become  of  our  confidence,  our  inti 
mate  exchange  of  thought  on  every  possible  sub 
ject,  if  there  were  another  fellow  by,  who  might 
be  a  vulgarian  or  a  muff?  What  could  we  do 
with  a  chap  to  whom  we  should  have  to  explain 
our  metaphysics,  give  page  and  line  for  our  quo 
tations,  interpret  our  puns,  translate  our  allu 
sions,  analyze  our  intuitions,  define  our  God  ? 
Such  a  companion  would  take  the  sparkle  and 
the  flash  of  this  rapid  and  unerring  sympathy  out 
of  our  lives.  No,  Dreeme,  this  isolation  of  yours 
suits  me ;  and  since  you  continue  to  tolerate  my 
society,  I  must  suit  you.  We  form  a  capital 
exclusive  pair,  close  as  any  of  the  historic  ones, 
—  Orestes  and  Pylades,  for  example,  —  to  close 
my  long  discourse  classically." 

u  Do  not  compare  us  to  those  ill-omened  two. 
Orestes  was  ordained  to  slay  his  parent  for  her 
sin,"  my  friend  rejoined,  in  an  uneasy  tone. 

"  It  was  a  judicial  murder,  —  the  guiltless  exe 
cution  of  a  decree  of  fate.  And  all  turned  out 
happily  at  last,  you  remember.  Orestes  became 
king  of  Argos,  and  gave  his  sister  in  marriage  to 
his  Pylades,  the  faithful.  Who  knows  but  when 
your  tragic  duty  is  over,  whatever  it  be,  and  you 
have  brought  the  guilty  to  justice,  you  will  re 
sume  your  proper  crown,  and  find  a  sister  for 


244  CECIL   DREEME. 

me,  your  Pylades,  the  faithful  ?  If  my  present 
flame  should  not  smile,  that  would  be  admirable. 
Your  sister  for  me  would  make  our  brotherhood 
actual." 

"  My  sister  for  you ! "  said  Dreeme,  with  an 
accent  almost  of  horror ;  and  I  could  feel,  by  his 
arm  in  mine,  that  a  strong  shudder  ran  through 
him. 

We  had  by  this  time  passed  from  the  side-front 
of  the  Opera-House,  where  this  conversation  began, 
had  walked  along  Quatorze  Street,  and  turned 
up  into  the  Avenue.  Quatorze  Street,  as  only  a 
total  stranger  need  be  informed,  is  named  in  tri 
umphant  remembrance  of  the  minikin  monarch 
whom  we  defeated  in  the  old  French  war.  The 
crossing  of  Quatorze  Street  and  the  Avenue  was, 
at  that  time,  the  very  focus  of  fashion.  Within 
half  a  mile  of  that  corner,  Everybody  lived  — 
Everybody  who  was  not  Nobody. 

It  was  mid-March.  Lent  was  in  full  sigh. 
Balls  were  over  until  Easter.  Fasting  people 
cannot  take  violent  exercise.  One  can  dance  on 
full,  but  not  on  meagre  diet,  —  on  turkey,  not  on 
fish.  But  in  default  of  balls,  Mrs.  Bilkes,  still  a 
leader  of  fashion,  had  her  Lent  evenings.  They 
were  The  Thing,  so  Everybody  agreed,  and  this 
evening  was  one  of  them.  I  had  deserted  for  my 
walk  with  Dreeme. 

Mrs.  Bilkes's  house  was  just  far  enough  above 


CECIL  DKEEME.  245 

Quatorze  Street,  on  the  Avenue,  to  be  in  the 
van  of  the  upward  march  of  fashion.  Files  of 
carriages  announced  that  all  the  world  was  with 
her  that  evening.  The  usual  band  discoursed 
the  usual  music  within ;  but  wanting  the  ca 
dence  of  dancers'  feet  to  enliven  them,  those 
Lenten  strains  came  dolefully  forth. 

We  were  passing  this  mansion  when  Dreeme 
had  last  spoken.  Before  I  had  time  to  ask  him 
what  meant  his  agitation  at  the  thought  of  me 
for  possible  brother-in-law,  the  factotum  of  the 
Bilkes  party,  the  well-known  professional,  hailed 
me  from  the  steps,  where  he  stood  in  author 
ity  ;  for  by  the  bright  light  from  the  house  he 
could  easily  recognize  me. 

"  What,  Mr.  Byng  !  You  wont  drop  in  upon 
us  ?  They  're  packed  close  as  coffins  inside,  but 
there  's  always  room  for  another  like  yourself. 
Better  come  in,  —  Mrs.  Bilkes  will  take  on  tre 
mendous  if  she  finds  I  let  you  go  by  without 
stopping." 

I  paused  a  moment,  half  disgusted,  half  amused 
by  the  privileged  man's  speech.  As  I  did  so,  a 
gentleman  coming  down  the  steps  addressed  me. 
And  it  is  such  trivial  pauses  as  these  that  bid  us 
halt  till  Destiny  overtakes  our  unconscious  steps. 

I  turned  with  a  slight  start,  for  I  had  not  ob 
served  the  new-comer  as  an  acquaintance  until 
he  was  at  my  side. 


246  CECIL   DREEME. 

It  was  Densdeth. 

He  looked,  with  his  keen,  hasty  glance,  at  my 
companion.  He  seemed  to  recognize  him  as  a 
stranger.  He  did  not  bow,  but  turned  to  me, 
and  said, — 

"  What,  Byng !  Are  you  not  going  in  ?  It  is 
very  brilliant.  All  the  fair  penitents  are  there, 
keeping  Lent,  in  their  usual  severe  simplicity  of 
penitential  garb.  I  asked  Matilda  Mildood  if  I 
should  give  her  a  bit  of  partridge  and  some 
chicken-salad.  '  I  'm  quite  ashamed  of  you,  Mr. 
Densdeth,'  says  Matilda,  with  the  air  of  one 
resolutely  mortifying  the  flesh  ;  '  don't  you  re 
member  it 's  Lent.  Oysters  and  lobster-salad,  if 
you  please,  and  a  little  terrapin,  if  there  is  any.' ' 

While  Densdeth  made  this  talk,  he-  glanced 
again  at  my  companion.  Dreeme  had  with 
drawn  his  arm,  and  stood  a  little  apart,  half 
turned  away  from  us,  avoiding  notice,  as  usual. 

"  Don't  throw  away  your  cigar,  Byng,"  con 
tinued  Densdeth,  taking  out  his  case,  and  step 
ping  toward  the  lamp-post,  to  make,  as  it  seemed 
to  me,  a  very  elaborate  selection.  "  Give  me 
a  light  first.  Will  you  try  one  of  mine  ?  " 

"  No,  thank  you.     I  have  had  my  allowance." 

Densdeth  took  my  cigar  to  light  his.  The 
slight  glow  was  sufficient  to  illuminate  his  face 
darkly.  Its  expression  seemed  to  me  singularly 
cruel  and  relentless.  It  was  withal  scornful 


CECIL   DREEME.  247 

and  triumphant.  Something  evidently  had  hap 
pened  which  gave  Densdeth  satisfacton.  "Whom 
had  he  vanquished  to-night  ? 

The  cigar  would  not  draw. 

"  Bah ! "  said  Densdeth,  tearing  it  in  two, 
with  his  white-gloved  hands,  with  a  manner 
of  dainty  torture,  as  if  he  were  inflicting  an 
indignity  upon  a  foe.  "  Bah  !  "  said  he,  taking 
out  another  cigar,  with  even  more  elaborate 
selection,  and  as  he  did  so  glancing,  quick  and 
sharp,  at  my  friend,  who  had  retreated  from 
the  lamp.  "  I  don't  allow  cigars,  any  more  than 
other  creatures,  to  baffle  me.  Excuse  me,  Byng, 
for  detaining  you.  The  second  trial  must  suc 
ceed  ;  if  not,  I  '11  try  a  third  time,  —  that  always 
wins.  Thanks ! " 

He  lighted  his  cigar.  Again  by  the  glow  I 
observed  the  same  relentless,  triumphant  look. 

Densdeth  turned  down  the  Avenue.  I  re 
joined  Dreeme.  He  took  my  arm  again  and 
clung  to  it  almost  weakly. 

"  "What  is  the  matter,  Dreeme?"  I  asked,  my 
tenderness  for  him  all  awake. 

No  answer,  but  a  nervous  pressure  on  my  arm. 

"  You  are  tired.     Shall  we  turn  back  ?  " 

"  Not  the  way  that  man  has  gone,"  said  he. 

"  Why  not  ?    What  do  you  fear  ?  " 

"  I  heard  him  name  himself  Densdeth.  I 
saw  his  face  —  that  cruel  face  of  his.  Mr.  Byng, 


248  CECIL   DREEME. 

—  my  dear  friend,  Robert  Byng, —  that  man  is 
evil  to  the  core.  You  call  me  your  Mentor, 
your  good  influence ;  take  my  warning !  Obey 
me,  and  shun  him,  as  you  would  a  fiend.  You 
say  that  I  have  a  fresh  nature  ;  believe  that  my 
instinct  of  aversion  for  a  villain  is  unerring.  " 

"  Is  not  this  prejudice  ? "  said  I,  somewhat 
moved  by  his  panic,  but  still  fancying  so  much 
alarm  idle. 

"  It  might  before  have  been  prejudice,  de 
rived  from  your  own  account  of  him ;  but  now 
I  have  seen  him,  face  to  face." 

"  A  glance  merely,  and  in  a  dusky  light." 

"  Yes,  but  one  look  at  that  face  of  his  sears 
it  into  the  heart." 

"  You  seem  to  have  been  as  inquisitive  about 
him  as  he  about  you.  He  studied  your  back 
pretty  thoroughly.  In  fact,  I  believe  it  was  to 
observe  you  that  he  made  such  parade  of  break 
ing  up  his  delinquent  cigar.  He  evidently  meant 
to  know  for  what  comrade  I  was  abandoning 
the  charms  of  the  Bilkes  soirSe" 

"  I  shudder  at  the  thought  of  such  a  man's 
observation.  What  ugly  fate  brought  me  here  ?  " 

Dreeme  turned,  and  looked  back. 

I  involuntarily  did  the  same. 

The  Avenue,  at  that  late  hour,  was  nearly 
deserted  of  promenaders.  As  far  away  as  two 
blocks  behind  us,  I  noticed  the  spark  of  a  cigar, 


CECIL  DREEME.  249 

and  as  the  smoker  passed  a  gas-light,  I  could 
see  him  take  the  cigar  from  his  lips  with  a 
white-gloved  hand.  He  even  seemed  to  bran 
dish  it  triumphantly. 

"  He  is  following  us ! "  cried  Dreeme. 

The  painter  whirled  me  about  a  corner,  and 
dragged  me,  almost  at  a  run,  along  several 
humbler  streets.  At  last  we  turned  into  one 
of  the  avenues  by  the  North  River,  far  away 
from  the  beat  of  any  guest  of  Mrs.  Bilkes. 

There  Dreeme  paused,  and  spoke. 

"  Good  exercise  I  have  given  you  by  my 
panic,"  said  he,  with  a  forced  laugh.  "  How 
absurd  I  have  been !  Pardon  me !  You  are 
aware  how  nervous  I  get,  being  so  much  shut 
up  alone.  And  then,  you  know,  I  was  only 
hurrying  you  away  from  your  devil." 

"  Strange  fellow  you  are,  Dreeme  !  I  sup 
pose  this  very  strangeness  is  one  element  of 
your  control  over  me.  You  excite  my  curi 
osity  in  degree,  though  not  in  kind,  quite  as 
much  as  Densdeth  does.  And  now  that  you 
and  he  are  brought  together,  I  hope  these  two 
mysterious  personages  will  explain  each  other 
by  some  flash  of  hostile  electricity.  I  wait  for 
light  from  the  meeting  of  the  thunder-clouds." 

"  It  must  be  very  late,"  said  Dreerne  in  a 
weary  tone.  "  What  a  dismal  part  of  the  city ! 
This  squalor  sickens  me.  These  rows  of  grog- 
11* 


250  CECIL   DREEME. 

shops  infect  me  with  utter  hopelessness.  Sin  — 
sin  everywhere,  and  the  sorrow  that  never  can 
be  divorced  from  sin !  How  can  we  escape  ? 
How  can  we  save  others  ?  These  nocturnal 
wanderings  of  ours  have  told  me  of  a  breadth 
and  a  depth  of  misery  that  years  of  a  charitable 
lifetime  would  never  have  revealed.  If  I  ever 
have  opportunities  for  action  and  influence,  I 
shall  know  my  duty,  and  how  to  do  it.  I  see, 
Mr.  Byng,  as  I  have  before  told  you,  that  you 
do  not  thoroughly  share  my  sympathy  for  pov 
erty  and  suffering  and  crime." 

"  Perhaps  not  fully.  My  heart  is  not  so  tender 
as  yours.  I  cannot  seem  to  make  other  people's 
distress  my  personal  business,  as  you  do.  I  en 
dure  the  misfortunes  of  strangers  with  reasonable 
philosophy.  Suffering,  like  pain,  I  suppose  is  to 
be  borne  heroically,  until  it  passes  off.  Every 
man  has  his  hard  times." 

"  You  are  not  cruel,"  said  Dreeme,  "  but  you 
talk  cruelly  on  a  subject  you  hardly  understand. 
Wait  until  the  hours  of  your  own  bitterness  come, 
and  you  will  learn  the  precious  lesson  of  sym 
pathy  !  You  will  soften  to  others,  and  most  to 
those  who  suffer  for  no  fault  of  theirs,  —  the 
wronged,  driven  to  despair  by  wrong-doing  in 
those  they  love,  —  the  erring,'  visited  with  what 
we  name  ruin,  for  some  miserable  mistake  of 
inexperience.  But  let  us  hasten  home  !  I  have 


CECIL  DREEME.  251 

never  felt  so  sick  at  heart,  so  doubtful  of  the 
future,  so  oppressed  by  the  6  weary  weight  of  all 
this  unintelligible  world,'  as  I  do  at  this  mo 
ment." 

"  Dreeme,  are  you  never  to  take  your  future 
into  your  own  hands,  and  live  a  healthy,  natural 
life,  like  other  men  ?  Think  of  yourself !  Do 
not  be  so  wretched  with  other  people's  faults ! 
You  cannot  annihilate  the  troubles  that  have 
made  you  unhappy ;  but  do  not  brood  over  them. 
Be  young,  and  live  young,  in  sunshine  and 
gayety." 

"  Be  young !  "  said  he,  more  drearily  than 
ever. 

"  Yes  ;  make  me  your  confidant !  Face  down 
your  difficulties !  If  you  do  not  trust  my  experi 
ence,  and  think  me  too  recent  in  the  country  to 
give  you  practical  help,  there  is  my  friend,  Mr. 
Churm.  He  will  be  here  to-morrow  from  a 
journey.  Churm  is  true  as  steel.  Trust  him ! 
He  and  I  will  pull  you  through." 

"  I  trust  no  one  but  you.  Do  not  press  me 
yet.  I  am  generally  contented,  as  you  know, 
with  my  art  and  your  society.  Only  to-night  the 
sight  of  that  bad  man  has  discomposed  me." 

"  Discomposed  is  a  mild  term,"  said  I,  as  I 
unlocked  the  outer  door  of  Chrysalis. 

"  Well,  I  am  composed  now.  But  I  wish," 
said  he  in  a  trepidating  way,  that  belied  his 


252  CECIL  DKEEME. 

words,  "  that  you  would  see  me  safe  to  my 
door." 

I  did  so,  and  we  parted,  closer  friends  than 
ever. 

Densdeth,  Cecil  Dreeme,  Emma  Denman, 
—  these  three  figures  battled  strangely  in  my 
dreams. 


CHAPTER    XXI. 

LYDIAN   MEASURES. 

I  DINED  en  famille  at  Mr.  Denman's  the  day 
after  that  panic-struck  night  walk  with  Cecil 
Dreeme. 

"  You  are  looking  pale  and  thin,  Emma,"  said 
Mr.  Denman,  as  his  daughter  rose  to  leave  us  to 
our  claret.  "You  need  more  variety  in  your 
life.  Why  not  let  Byng  take  you  to  the  opera 
to-night  ?  Our  box  has  stood  vacant,  now,  these 
many  weeks." 

"  Yes,"  said  I,  "  it  is  the  new  opera  to-night." 

Emma  glanced  at  her  black  dress. 

"  Go  !  "  said  Denman,  with  something  of  harsh 
ness  in  his  tone,  "  that  need  not  cloud  your  life 
forever." 

"  Do  go,"  said  I. 

"  I  will,"  she  said,  with  a  slight  effort.  "  But 
I  shrink  from  appearing  in  public  again." 

"  It  is  time  you  should  get  over  that  feeling. 
We  shall  soon  be  receiving  company  again,"  said 
her  father.  "  So  be  ready  when  Byng  and  I  have 
had  our  cigars." 


254  CECIL  DREEME. 

She  was  ready,  and  we  drove  to  the  Opera- 
House  together. 

Her  mourning  was  exquisitely  becoming  to  her 
slight,  graceful,  refined  figure.  The  startled  and 
almost  timorous  manner  I  had  noticed  in  our 
first  interview  had  lately  grown  more  marked. 
This  shy,  feminine  trait  excited  instant  sympa 
thy.  It  recalled  how  her  life  had  been  shocked 
by  the  sudden  news  of  a  tragedy.  She  seemed 
to  have  learned  to  tremble,  lest  she  might  en 
counter  at  any  moment  some  new  disaster  sad 
der  than  the  first.  This  was  probably  mere 
nervousness  after  her  long  grief,  so  I  thought. 
Yet  sometimes,  when  I  spoke  to  her  with  any 
suddenness,  she  would  start  and  shrink,  and  turn 
from  me ;  then,  exercising  a  strong  control  over 
herself,  she  would  return,  smile  away  the  fleeting 
shiver,  and  be  again  as  self-possessed  and  gay  as 
ever. 

As  we  entered  the  Opera-House  and  took  our 
places  in  Mr.  Denman's  conspicuous  box,  the 
glare  of  the  lights  and  the  eyes  of  a  great  audi 
ence  making  a  focus  upon  her  affected  Emma 
with  the  panic  I  have  described.  She  turned  to 
me  with  the  gesture  of  one  asking  protection, 
almost  humbly. 

"  I  must  go,"  she  said  ;  "  I  cannot  bear  to  have 
all  the  world  staring  at  me  in  this  blank,  hard, 
cruel  way.  They  hurt  me,  —  these  people,  pry 
ing  into  my  heart  to  find  the  sorrow  there." 


CECIL   DREEME.  255 

"  In  a  moment  it  will  be  an  old  story,"  said  I. 
"  Do  not  think  of  going,  dear  Emma.  The 
change  and  the  excitement  of  the  music  will  do 
you  good.  This  nervousness  of  a  debutante  will 
pass  away  presently." 

Dear  Emma!  The  first  time  that  any  such 
tender  familiarity  had  passed  my  lips.  And  my 
manner,  too,  I  perceived,  expressed  a  new  and 
deeper  solicitude.  I  perceived  this ;  so  did  my 
companion. 

She  looked  at  me,  with  a  strange,  fixed  expres 
sion,  as  if  she  were  resisting  some  potent  impulse. 
Then  a  hot  blush  came  into  her  cheeks.  She 
sank  into  her  seat,  and  fanned  herself  rapidly. 
Her  brilliant  color  remained. 

"  Emma,"  said  I,  bending  toward  her,  "  what 
splendid  change  has  befallen  you  ?  You  are  at 
this  moment  beautiful  beyond  any  possible  dream 
of  mine." 

"  Do  not  speak  to  me,"  she  said ;  "  I  shall 
burst  into  tears  before  all  these  people.  This 
crowd,  after  my  seclusion,  confuses  and  frightens 
me.  Let  me  be  quiet  a  moment !  " 

All  the  world,  of  course,  was  immediately 
aware  of  the  reappearance  of  the  beautiful  Miss 
Denman.  There  was  much  curiosity,  and  some 
genuine  sympathy.  "  Nods  and  becks  and 
wreathed  smiles  "  came  to  her  from  the  boxes  on 
every  side.  Her  entree  was  a  triumph  —  as  such 
triumphs  go. 


256  CECIL   DREEME. 

To  avoid  this  inspection,  she  took  her  lorgnette 
and  glanced  about  the  house.  I  followed  its 
direction. 

I  saw  her  pause  a  moment  on  the  group  of  men 
in  the  lobby.  At  the  same  time  we  both  recog 
nized  Densdeth,  regarding  us. 

He  was  laughing  with  Raleigh  and  others.  I 
seemed  almost  to  hear  the  sharp  tone  of  that 
cynical,  faithless  laugh  of  his. 

All  the  color  faded  out  of  Emma  Denman's 
face.  She  sank  back,  almost  cowering.  Cower 
ing,  —  the  expression  does  not  exaggerate  the 
effect  of  her  gesture.  She  cowered  into  the 
corner  of  the  box,  and  hid  her  face  behind  her 
fan. 

I  should  have  spoken  to  demand  the  reason  of 
her  strange  distress,  when  the  leader  of  the  or 
chestra  rapped ;  there  was  a  hush,  and  the  new- 
overture  began  with  a  barbaric  blare  of  trumpets. 

So  the  opera  went  on,  to  the  great  satisfaction 
of  all  dilettanteism. 

It  was  thoroughly  debilitating,  effeminate  mu 
sic.  No  single  strain  of  manly  vigor  rose,  from 
end  to  end  of  the  drama.  Never  would  any 
noble  sentiment  thrill  along  the  fibres  of  the  soul 
in  response  to  those  Lydian  measures.  It  was 
music  to  steep  the  being  in  soft,  luxurious  lan 
guors;  to  make  all  effort  seem  folly,  all  ardor 
madness,  all  steady  toil  impossible ;  — music  to  lap 


CECIL  DREEME.  257 

the  mind  in  somnolence,  in  a  careless  consent  to 
whatever  was,  were  it  but  bodily  ease  and  moral 
stagnancy. 

There  was  no  epic  dignity,  no  tragic  elevation, 
no  lyrical  fervor,  in  the  new  opera.  Passion  it 
had  ;  but  it  was  a  dreamy  passionateness,  not  the 
passion  that  wakes  action,  nervous  and  intent. 
Even  its  wild  strains,  that  meant  terror  and  dan 
ger,  came  like  the  distant  cry  of  wild  beasts  in  a 
heavy  midnight  of  the  tropics,  —  a  warning  so 
far  away,  that  it  would  never  stir  the  slumbers 
of  the  imperilled. 

Always  this  music  seemed  to  sound  and 
sing,  with  every  note  of  voice  or  instrument,  — 
"  Brethren,  what  have  we  to  do  with  that  idle 
fiction  of  an  earnest  life  ?  While  we  live,  let  us 
live  in  sloth.  Let  us  deaden  ourselves  with  soft 
intoxications  and  narcotic  stupors,  out  of  reach 
of  care.  Why  question  ?  Why  wrestle  ?  Why 
agonize  ?  Here  are  roses,  not  too  fresh,  so  as  to 
shame  the  cheeks  of  revelry.  Here  is  the  dull, 
heavy  sweetness  of  tropic  perfume.  Here  is 
wine,  dark  purple,  prostrating,  Lethean.  Here 
are  women,  wooing  to  languid  joys.  Here  is 
sweet  death  in  life.  So  let  us  drowse  and  slum 
ber,  while  the  silly  world  goes  wearily  along." 

Emasculated  music !  Such  music  as  tyranny 
over  mind  and  spirit  calls  for,  to  lull  its  un 
manned  subjects  into  sensual  calm.  Such  as  an 


258  CECIL   DREEME. 

Italian  priesthood  has  encouraged,  to  make  its 
people  forget  that  they  were  men,  and  remember 
that  they  were  and  would  ever  be  slaves.  Music 
that  no  tyrant  need  ever  dread,  lest  it  should 
nerve  the  arm  of  a  tyrannicide.  Music  that 
would  never  ring  to  any  song  of  freedom,  or 
chime  with  any  lay  of  tender  and  ennobling  love. 

The  story  was  as  base  as  the  strain.  There 
was  tragedy,  indeed,  in  it,  and  death.  But 
a  neat,  graceful,  orderly  death,  in  white  satin. 
Nothing  ugly,  like  blood  and  pangs  ;  nothing  dis 
tressing,  like  final  repentance  with  tears,  or  final 
remorse  with  sobs  and  anguish.  The  moral  was, 
that  after  a  life  of  revelry,  not  too  frantic,  to 
die  by  digestible  poison,  when  pleasure  began  to 
pall,  was  a  very  proper  and  pretty  exit. 

Delicious  music,  and  only  soothing  if  music 
were  simply  a  corporeal  influence,  but  utterly 
enervating  to  the  soul.  I  felt  it.  I  was  aware 
of  a  deterioration  in  myself.  I  passed  into  a 
Sybaritic  mood,  —  a  mood  of  consent,  —  of  ac 
cepting  facts  as  they  were,  and  missing  nothing 
that  could  give  a  finer  joy  to  my  sensuous  tran 
quillity.  In  this  frame  of  mind,  the  degree  and 
kind  of  my  passion  for  Emma  Denman  satisfied 
me  wholly.  I  yielded  to  it. 

And  she,  in  the  same  lulled  and  dreamy  state, 
lost  the  dignity  of  manner  which  had  kept  us 
apart.  She  no  longer  shrank  as  she  had  been 


CECIL  DKEEME.  259 

wont  to  do  when  my  voice  or  words  conveyed  a 
lover  meaning.  Her  shyness  was  gone.  She 
seemed  to  yield  herself  to  me,  fully  and  finally. 

All  the  while  the  swelling,  flowing,  soothing 
strains  of  honeyed  music  hung  around  us,  and 
when  the  movement  of  the  drama  paused,  our 
minds  pursued  the  same  intention  in  our  talk. 

"We  agreed  that  all  regret  was  idle  ;  that  sor 
row  was  more  idle  than  regret ;  that  error 
brought  its  little  transitory  pang,  and  so  should 
be  forgotten  ;  that  mundane  creatures  should  not 
be  above  mundane  joys  in  this  fair  world,  reek 
ing  with  sights  and  sounds  of  pleasure,  and  all 
lavish  with  what  sense  and  appetite  desire.  We 
agreed  that  it  was  all  unwisdom  to  perplex  the  soul 
with  too  much  aspiration ;  better  not  aspire  than 
miss  attainment,  and  so  pine  and  waste,  as  one 
might  sigh  his  soul  away  that  loved  a  cloud. 

Between  the  acts,  I  saw  Densdeth  moving 
about,  welcome  everywhere,  —  the  man  who  had 
the  key  of  the  world.  A  golden  key  Densdeth 
carried.  All  the  salable  people,  and,  alas !  that 
includes  all  but  a  mere  decimation,  threw  open 
their  doors  to  Densdeth.  Opera-box  and  the 
tenants  of  the  box  were  free  to  him. 

The  drama  was  nearly  done,  and  he  had  not 
been  to  pay  his  respects  to  Emma  Denman, 
though  he  had  bowed  and  smiled  in  congratu 
lation. 


260  CECIL   DREEME. 

"  Densdeth  does  not  come  to  tell  you  how  bril 
liantly  you  are  looking  to-night,"  I  said. 

"  I  do  not  need  his  verdict,"  she  said,  coldly 
enough  ;  —  and  then,  as  if  I  might  take  the  cold- 
ness  to  myself,  she  added,  "  since  I  have  yours, 
and  it  is  favorable." 

"Yes;  my  verdict  is  this,  —  Guilty,  —  guilty 
of  being  your  most  fascinating  self,  —  guilty  of 
a  finer  charm  to-night  than  ever  before." 

"  Guilty  !  "  she  said,  turning  from  me.  "  Guil 
ty,  thrice  repeated  !  Do  use  some  less  ominous 
word." 

The  music  ceased.  The  curtain  slowly  de 
scended,  and  hid  the  sham  death-scene.  There 
was  the  usual  formal  applause.  The  conceited 
tenor  in  his  velvet  doublet,  unsullied  by  his  late 
despair,  the  truculent  basso,  now  in  jovial  mood, 
the  prima  donna,  past  her  prime,  sidled  along, 
hand  in  hand,  behind  the  foot-lights,  and  bowed 
to  the  backs  of  two  thirds  of  the  audience,  and  to 
the  muffled  resonance  of  the  white  gloves  of  the 
other  third. 

The  spiritual  influence  of  the  opera  remained, 
mingled  with  a  slight  forlornness,  the  reaction 
after  luxurious  excitement. 

I  left  Emma  Denman  in  the  corridor,  and 
went  to  find  the  carriage. 


CHAPTER    XXII. 

A  LAUGH  AND  A  LOOK. 

IN  the  lobby  of  the  Opera-House  was  the  usual 
throng,  —  fat  dowagers,  quite  warm  enough  with 
their  fat,  and  wretchedly  red-hot  under  a  grand 
exhibition  of  furs  ;  pretty  girls,  in  the  prettiest  of 
opera-cloaks,  white  and  pink  and  blue,  and  with 
downy  hoods  ;  anxious  papas,  indifferent  brothers, 
bored  husbands,  eager  lovers,  ineligible  young 
men  taking  out  mamma,  while  her  daughter 
hung  on  the  arm  of  the  eligible. 

Such  was  the  scene  within  the  Quatorze  Street 
lobby.  Without,  in  a  raw,  drizzly  March  night, 
was  a  huddle  of  coaches,  and  on  every  box  a 
coachman,  swearing  his  worst. 

It  was  some  time  before,  in  the  confusion,  I 
could  find  the  Denman  carriage.  At  last  I  dis 
covered  it,  and  went  up-stairs  for  Emma. 

As  I  ran  up  the  stairs,  and  was  just  at  the  top 
steps,  whence  I  should  turn  into  the  corridor 
where  the  lady  was  waiting,  I  heard  the  ominous 
sound  of  Densdeth's  laugh. 

It  came  from  where  she  stood.     I  paused. 


262  CECIL   DREEME. 

Instantly,  in  answer,  and  in  thorough  sympathy 
with  that  hateful  tone,  I  heard  another  laugh. 
It  seemed  even  baser,  more  cynical  and  false,  than 
Densdeth's  ;  for  threaded  in  it,  and  tarnished  by 
the  contact,  were  silver  notes  I  had  often  heard 
in  genuine  merriment. 

"  Emma  Denman  !  "  I  thought,  with  a  shiver. 
"  How  dares  she  let  herself  respond  to  his  debas 
ing  jests  ?  How  can  she  echo  him,  —  and  echo 
that  jarring  music  familiarly,  as  if  she  had  long 
been  a  pupil  of  the  master  ?  " 

The  pang  of  this  question  drove  me  forward. 
I  turned  into  the  corridor. 

Only  those  two  were  standing  there, — Dens- 
deth  and  she.  His  back  was  turned  toward  me. 
The  glare  of  a  gas-light  overhead  fell  full  upon 
her. 

The  languor  caused  by  that  enfeebling  music 
was  visible  in  her  posture  and  expression.  Her 
manner,  too,  to  a  sensitive  observer  like  myself, 
betrayed  a  certain  drowsy  recklessness. 

And  then,  as  I  entered  the  corridor  by  a 
side-door,  before  she  was  conscious  of  my  pres 
ence,  she  gave  Densdeth  a  look  which  curdled 
my  blood. 

I  may  live  long.  I  am  not  without  a  share 
of  happiness.  I  am  at  peace.  God  has  given 
me  much  that  is  good  and  beautiful.  The  atmos 
phere  of  my  existence  is  healthy.  But  there  is 


CECIL   DREEME.  263 

one  memory  in  my  heart  which  I  have  never 
ventured  to  recall  until  this  moment,  —  which  I 
bear  down  upon  and  crowd  back  whenever  it 
stirs  and  struggles  to  burst  up  into  daylight. 
There  is  one  memory  which  has  power  to  burn 
away  my  earthly  bliss  with  a  single  touch,  and 
to  throw  such  a  ghastly  coloring  over  all  the 
world,  that  my  neighbor  seems  a  traitor  and 
my  Creator  my  foe.  That  memory  is  the  look 
I  saw  Emma  Denman  give  to  Densdeth. 

It  was  my  revelation  of  evil  in  the  woman  I 
had  honestly  and  earnestly  resolved  to  love  and 
trust.  It  showed  to  me  first,  by  the  fiery  pang 
of  a  personal  experience,  the  curse  of  sin. 

Sin,  —  I  fancied  that  I  knew  it  well  enough. 

Sin,  —  I  had  been  wont  to  class  myself  lightly 
among  its  foes ;  to  feel  a  transitory  gloom  when 
I  heard  of  its  harm ;  to  wonder  and  protest, 
nonchalantly,  at  its  existence  ;  to  believe  that 
its  power  was  broken,  with  the  other  ancient 
tyrannies,  and  that  it  would  presently  accept  a 
banishment  and  leave  the  world  to  a  better  day. 

Ah  no !  I  had  never  dreamed  a  dream  of 
what  is  sin.  But  now  the  revelation  came  to  me. 

I  am  a  stalwart  man.  This  blow  aged  and 
enfeebled  me  as  might  a  sorrowful  lifetime.  The 
weight  of  the  thousands  of  ill-doing  years,  all  the 
accumulated  evil  of  the  old  bad  centuries,  rose 
suddenly,  like  a  mountain,  and  fell  upon  me. 


264  CECIL  DREEME. 

I  cannot  describe  this  look  of  hers.  I  do  not 
wish  to.  It  is  enough  to  say  that  it  told  me 
of  a  dishonorable  secret  between  the  two.  It 
told  me  that  at  this  moment,  however  it  might 
be  in  a  mood  of  stronger  self-possession,  she 
felt  no  compunction,  no  remorse,  no  agony,  that 
such  a  secret  existed,  —  nothing  but  an  indo 
lent  acquiescence  in  the  treason. 

And  this  was  the  interpretation  of  so  much 
mystery.  This  justified  my  instinctive  suspicions. 
This  punished  my  generosity  and  my  resolve  to 
quell  the  warnings  of  nature.  This  explained 
the  inexplicable.  In  that  one  instant  I  learned 
my  capacity  for  an  immortal  misery. 

They  heard  my  step.  Densdeth  turned,  and 
bowed  to  me  politely  enough,  smiling  also,  as 
if  to  himself,  behind  his  black  moustache. 

It  was  not  the  first  time  that  his  scornful 
smile  had  seemed  to  me  to  take  a  cast  of  tri 
umph  as  he  regarded  me.  But  such  fleeting 
expression  had  always  disappeared,  stealing  back 
like  an  assassin  who  has  peered  out  too  soon, 
and  may  awake  his  drowsy  victim.  I  too  had 
always  had  my  own  covert  smile.  For  I  was 
quite  satisfied  that  Densdeth  was  never  to  win 
any  very  substantial  victory  over  me.  I  could 
seek  his  society  in  perfect  safety,  so  I  fancied, 
against  its  debasing  influence.  He  never  should 
wield  me  as  he  did  Raleigh,  nor  master  me  as 


CECIL  DREEME.  265 

he  did  that  swinish  multitude  at  the  club,  or 
those  wolves  in  Wall  Street. 

But  now  his  vanishing  smile  of  triumph  chilled 
me.  This  harm  was  a  more  deadly  harm  than 
aught  I  had  dreamed  of  as  in  any  man's  power. 
If  I  was  so  wronged  in  my  faith,  what  would 
hinder  me  henceforth  from  losing  all  faiths,  and 
so  becoming  the  hateful  foe  of  my  race,  and 
being  forced  into  detested  alliance  with  this  un 
holy  spirit  —  this  corruption  —  Densdeth  ! 

I  wrapped  the  lady's  cloak  about  her.  In 
this  duty  I  by  chance  touched  her  arm.  My 
hands  had  become  icy  cold,  —  so  this  touch  re 
vealed  to  me,  —  and  I  shivered.  She  felt  the 
shock,  and  shivered  also.  Then  she  took  my 
arm,  and  moved  forward  hastily,  as  if  the  spot 
had  become  hateful  to  her. 

Densdeth  bowed,  and  left  us. 

We  walked  down  stairs.  She  clung  to  my 
arm  wearily. 

I  pitied  her  with  such  deep  and  sorrowful 
pity  for  the  seeming  discovery  of  this  evening, 
that  I  felt  that  I  must  speak  kindly;  I  spoke, 
and  my  voice  sounded  to  me  like  the  voice  of 
one  unknown,  so  desolate  it  was. 

"  Emma,  you  are  tired.    Poor  child  !  " 

"  Emma !  "  —  there  was  no  withdrawing  into 
forms   again.     Ah,  nevermore !     Nothing   done 
could  be  undone. 
12 


266  CECIL  DREEME. 

"  You  are  very  kind,"  she  said,  with  an  altered 
manner,  —  sadness  instead  of  languor.  "  No  one 
has  ever  been  so  tender  with  me.  0  Robert! 
why  did  you  not  come  years  ago  ?  " 

While  my  answer  to  this  pleading  question 
lingered,  we  entered  the  lobby. 

A  young  lady,  standing  there  alone  and  for 
lorn,  pounced  upon  Emma  Denman. 

"  Dear  Emma !  "  cried  Miss  Matilda  Mildood, 
"  I  'm  so  glad  you  are  here.  Do  take  me  home. 
Our  coachman  is  wild  with  drink,  and  my  brother 
Pursy  is  in  danger  of  his  life." 

"  I  shall  be  most  happy,"  said  Emma. 

I  put  the  ladies  into  the  Denman  carriage, 
rescued  Pursy  from  his  scuffle,  and  we  drove  off 
together. 

Pursy  Mildood  was  a  compliment-box,  Matilda 
a  rattle-box.  Pursy  played  his  little  selection  of 
compliments  to  Miss  Denman.  Matilda  rattled 
to  me.  They  filled  time  and  space,  as  it  was 
their  business  to  do.  Triflers  have  their  office  in 
this  world  of  racking  passions  and  exhausting 
purposes. 

I  needed  this  moment's  pause.  I  could  not 
have  endured  the  tete-d-tete  with  Emma  in  the 
carriage.  The  interval,  while  Matilda  sprinkled 
me  with  a  drizzle  of  opera  talk  and  fashionable 
gossip,  gave  me  time  to  bethink  myself. 

What  must  I  do  and  say  ? 


CECIL   DREEME.  267 

To-night,  nothing. 

To-night,  if  I  spoke  in  my  agony,  I  must  ac 
cuse.  Let  me  wait  for  a  calmer  moment.  Let 
me  reflect,  and  assure  myself  that  my  thought 
was  not  doing  a  pure  heart  a  cruel  and  irrepa- 
rahle  wrong. 

The  Mildoods'  house  was  opposite  the  Den- 
mans'.  Compliments  and  prattle  came  to  an 
end,  unconscious  of  the  emotions  they  had  for  a 
time  diverted.  We  dropped  brother  and  sister  at 
their  door,  and  drove  across. 

I  handed  Emma  out,  unlocked  the  door  with 
her  key,  and  stepped  within  to  say  good  night. 


CHAPTER    XXIII. 

A  PARTING. 

"  YOUR  hands  were  like  ice,  when  you  touched 
my  arm,"  said  Emma  Denman.  "  You  have 
taken  cold.  Come  in.  I  will  play  Hebe,  and 
make  you  a  goblet  of  hot  nectar." 

"  No,  I  must  go.     Good  night." 

"  Mr.  Byng,  Robert !     What  has  happened  ?  " 

"  Do  not  ask  me  ?  " 

"  You  appall  me  with  your  voice  of  a  Rhada- 
manthus.  Have  I  offended  you  ?  Is  it  fatal  ?  " 

The  light  of  a  large  globe  in  the  hall  fell  full 
upon  her  face  as  she  spoke.  All  the  eager,  tri 
umphal  look  of  the  early  evening  had  departed. 
All  the  languid  acquiescence  was  gone.  Gone 
was  even  the  faintest  shadow  of  the  expression 
that  had  turned  my  blood  to  ice.  Pale  horror 
—  yes,  no  less  than  horror  —  seemed  suddenly 
to  have  mastered  her.  Was  she  too  now  first 
learning  the  sin  and  misery  of  sin  ? 

She  stood  in  the  grand  hall  of  the  stately 
house,  a  slight,  elegant  figure  in  mourning,  with 
the  abundant  drapery  of  her  cloak  falling  about 


CECIL  DREEME.  269 

her.  There  were  no  other  lights  except  the 
tempered  brilliancy  of  the  globe  overhead.  It 
was  after  midnight.  We  were  quite  alone,  ex 
cept  that  a  white  statue,  severely  robed  from 
head  to  foot,  and  just  withdrawn  in  a  niche, 
watched  our  interview,  as  it  might  be  the  ghostly 
presence  of  Clara  Denman  dead. 

As  Emma  stood  awaiting  my  answer,  her  look 
of  horror  quieted.  She  seemed  to  me  like  one 
who  has  heard  her  death-sentence,  and  is  re 
signed. 

I  could  not  force  myself  to  answer,  and  she 
spoke  again. 

"  Robert,  if  you  have  fault  to  find  with  me,  do 
not  tell  me  so  to-night.  To-morrow,  —  come  to 
morrow  !  Perhaps  we  may  still  be  friends.  Good 
night." 

She  gave  me  her  hand.  It  was  burning  hot. 
I  held  it  in  mine. 

There  we  stood,  —  the  chaste  and  ghostly  statue 
watching. 

We  could  not  separate.  I  trusted  her  again. 
I  cursed  myself  for  my  doubts. 

Should  I,  for  the  chance  of  one  brief,  passing 
look,  sacrifice  the  woman  whom  I  had  maturely 
concluded  that  I  loved,  who  loved  me,  —  for  so 
I  was  persuaded  ? 

Should  I  stain  a  maiden's  image  in  my  heart 
with  this  foul  suspicion,  —  a  suspicion  I  dared 
not  state  to  myself  in  terms  ? 


270  CECIL   DREEME. 

Could  I  there  erase  from  my  mind  all  those 
pleasant  memories  of  childhood,  so  sweetly  anew 
revived,  and  all  the  riper  confidences  of  our 
friendship,  and  believe  that  this  brilliant  crea 
ture's  life  was  one  monstrous  lie,  which  she  must 
daily,  hourly,  momently,  harden  herself  to  repeat  ? 

Could  I  convince  myself  that  her  fascination 
was  utter  treachery,  —  that  she,  a  grisly  witch 
at  heart,  had  carefully,  with  fairest-seeming  spell, 
and  lulling  daily  all  my  doubts  away,  entranced 
me  until  she  deemed  me  wholly  hers  ? 

Had  I  not  been  for  the  moment  under  the 
sickly  influence  of  that  enervating  music  ? 

Had  not  my  mind  gained  a  permanent  taint  in 
the  debasing  society  I  had  refused  to  resolutely 
shun  ?  Was  I  not  doing  her  foul  injustice,  and 
visiting  it  unfairly  and  cruelly  upon  her,  that  I 
had  let  myself  be  the  comrade  of  ignoble  and 
sensual  people,  —  of  Densdeth,  to  whom  no 
purity  was  sacred  ? 

Could  she,  my  only  intimate  among  women, 
be  responsible  for  the  lowering  of  my  moral  tone, 
so  that  I  did  not  abhor,  and  had  not  been  for 
these  late  months  loathing,  all  contact  with  vice  ? 
It  must  be  that  a  man  who  loves  a  pure  and  ele 
vating  woman  will  no  more  palter  with  evil.  He 
is  abashed  by  her  whiteness  of  soul.  He  will  not 
carry  into  her  presence  the  recent  taint  of  stain 
ing  associates.  He  will  strive  to  breathe  no  other 


CECIL  DREEME.  271 

but  that  sweet  serenity  of  atmosphere  where  she 
dwells,  and  so  refresh  and  recreate  his  holier 
being. 

Ah,  these  bitter  doubts!  They  did  in  my  sink 
ing  heart  justify  themselves. 

And  so,  as  I  could  not  speak  the  tender,  trust 
ful,  joyful  lover  words,  nor  any  words  but  sad 
reproaches  and  questions  of  distrust,  I  stood 
there,  silent,  holding  fast  her  hand. 

Then,  in  the  silence,  the  terrible  thought  over 
came  me,  that  if  by  any  syllable  or  gesture,  or 
even  by  the  dismay  of  an  involuntary  look,  I 
should  convey  my  suspicions  to  Emma  Denman, 
there  would  be  another  tragedy  in  that  ill-omened 
house,  another  despair,  another  mystery,  —  no 
mystery  to  me,  - —  and  all  the  sickening  horror  of 
a  death. 

"  Good-night,"  said  Emma  again. 

But  still  she  did  not  withdraw  her  hand. 

We  did  not  hold  each  other  with  the  close 
grasp  of  earnest,  confident  friendship,  nor  with 
that  strong  pressure  of  love  which  seems  to  strive 
to  make  the  two  beings  one  life.  It  was  a  nerve 
less,  lifeless  clutch.  Her  burning  hand  had 
grown  icy  cold  in  mine.  She  held  me  feebly,  as 
a  drowning  woman  might  wearily,  and  every 
weary  moment  still  more  wearily,  cling  to  the 
fainting  shoulder  of  a  drowning  man,  as  the  great 
solemn  waves  fell  on  him,  one  by  one. 


272  CECIL   DREEME. 

A  dreary  moment. 

It  tore  something  from  my  earthly  life  that 
never  can  return.  My  youth  faded  away  from 
me,  as  we  stood  there  miserably.  My  youth 
shrank  and  withered,  never  to  revive  again  and 
be  the  same  bright  youth,  whatever  warmth  of 
after  sunshine  came.  The  blight  of  sin  was  upon 
me.  The  sense  of  an  unknown  horror  of  sin 
grew  about  me,  and  I  became  a  coward  for  the 
moment,  —  a  coward,  smitten  down  by  the  dread 
that  for  me,  forever,  faith  was  utterly  dead,  and 
so  my  heart  would  be  imbittered  into  a  vague 
and  fiendish  vengeance  for  its  loss. 

"  Robert,"  said  she,  at  last,  "  you  will  not 
speak.  You  are  murdering  me  with  this  omi 
nous  silence.  How  have  you  learned  all  at  once 
to  hate  me  ?  " 

"  Hate  you  ?  " 

"  Worse  then  !     Do  you  distrust  me  ?  " 

"  Why  should  I  ?  We  will  not  speak  of  this 
now.  That  music  has  taken  all  the  manliness 
out  of  me, —  that,  or  some  power  as  subtle.  I 
will  see  you  to-morrow.  By  broad  daylight,  all 
the  ugly  fancies  that  beset  me  now  will  vanish." 

"Yes,"  she  said,  more  drearily  than  ever; 
"  fancies  fade  with  sunshine  ;  facts  grow  more 
fatally  prominent.  Good  night." 

She  withdrew  her  hand. 

She  moved  wearily  and  sadly  away,  —  a  slight, 


CECIL  DREEME.  273 

graceful  figure  in  mourning,  draped  with  the 
heavy  folds  of  a  cloak. 

Half-way  up  the  stairs  she  paused  and  turned, 
grasping  the  massive  dark  rail  with  both  her 
white  hands.  Light  from  the  floor  above  threw 
her  face  and  form  into  magical  relief,  hardly  less 
a  statue  than  that  marble  figure  watching  us. 

"  Good-bye,"  she  said,  in  a  tone  mournful  as  a 
last  adieu. 

"  Good  night,"  I  answered  ;  and  so  we  parted. 

I  walked  hastily  home  to  Chrysalis.  It  was  a 
raw  March  night,  with  a  cold  storm  threatening, 
and  uttering  its  threats  in  melancholy  blasts  and 
dashes  of  sleet. 

How  chilly,  lonely,  ghostly  it  looked  in  the 
marble-paved  corridors  of  Chrysalis !  I  opened 
the  great  door  in  front  with  my  pass-key.  The 
wind  banged  it  after  me  with  a  loud  clap.  But 
no  closed  door  could  repel  the  urgent  chase  of 
that  night's  cruel  thoughts. 

I  was  wretchedly  timorous  and  superstitious 
after  these  excitements.  As  I  passed  the  pad 
locked  door  of  Densdeth's  dark  room,  next  to 
mine,  I  fancied  him  lurking  within,  and  leering 
triumphantly  at  me  through  the  key-hole.  And 
then  in  the  sound  of  the  storm,  sighing  along 
the  halls  and  staircases,  and  shaking  the  narrow 
windows,  I  seemed  to  hear  that  mocking  laugh 
of  Densdeth's,  —  that  hard,  exulting  laugh  of 

12*  E 


274  CECIL   DREEME. 

his,  —  that  expressive  laugh,  —  saying,  with  all 
the  cruelty  of  scorn,  and"  proclaiming  to  the  scoff 
ing  legions  who  love  the  fall  of  noble  souls,  — 
"  Here,  at  last !  here  is  another  who  trusted 
and  is  deceived.  Now  his  illusions  are  over. 
He  will  join  us  frankly,  and  share  our  jolly  joys. 
Welcome,  Robert  Byng,  to  a  new  experiment 
of  life  !  Come  ;  you  shall  have  revenge  !  You 
shall  spoil  the  happiness  of  others,  as  your  own 
is  spoilt.  We  offer  you  the  delicious  honey  of 
revenge.  Sweet  it  is !  ah,  yes !  the  sweetest 
thing !  You  shall  be  one  of  us,  —  a  tempter. 
Come ! " 

Such  sounds  seemed  to  me  to  issue  from  that 
dark  room  of  Densdeth's,  to  clothe  themselves 
with  those  tones  of  his,  which  I  had  heard  to 
night  echoed  by  the  lips  of  the  woman  I  longed 
to  love,  and  to  pervade  the  building,  like  a  bat- 
winged  flight  of  fiendish  presences,  claiming  me 
as  their  comrade,  whether  I  would  or  no. 

I  entered  my  great,  dusky  chamber.  The  fire 
had  gone  out ;  it  was  chilly  and  dark  within.  In 
the  faint  light  from  the  street  lamp,  streaming 
through  the  narrow  mullioned  windows,  the  an 
cient  furniture,  carved  with  odd  devices  of  grif 
fins,  looked  grotesque  and  weird.  All  the  pic 
tures,  statues,  reliefs,  and  casts  in  the  room 
stared  at  me  strangely.  Was  I  suddenly  another 
man  than  the  undetected  person  who  had  lived 


CECIL  DREEME.  275 

so  many  weeks  under  their  inspection  ?  The 
portrait  of  Stillfleet's  mother,  a  large,  dignified 
woman,  gazed  kindly  and  pityingly  upon  me,  with 
a  mother's  look,  as  I  lighted  the  gas. 

On  the  table  Locksley  had  deposited  a  parcel 
addressed  to  me.  I  unwrapped  it.  It  was  the 
frame  I  had  ordered  for  my  present,  Cecil 
Dreeme's  sketch. 

I  put  it  in  the  frame,  and  examined  it  again. 
Only  a  sketch ;  but  very  masterly,  full  of  color, 
full  of  expression,  full  of  sweet  refinement  not 
diminishing  its  power. 

"  If  it  were  not  for  Dreeme,"  I  said  aloud,  "  I 
should  despair.  Him  I  trust.  Him  I  love  with 
a  love  passing  the  love  of  women.  If  I  should 
lose  him,  if  he  should  abandon  me,  I  might  be 
ready  to  take  the  world  as  Densdeth  wishes. 
What  can  a  soul  do  without  one  near  and  com 
rade  soul  to  love  and  trust  ?  " 

Then  the  mocking  wind  through  the  corridors, 
and  all  along  the  wintry  streets  without,  answered 
me  with  new  scoffs  of  the  same  derisive  laughter. 

I  lifted  my  eyes  from  the  picture.  That  ancient 
tapestry  caught  my  eye,  where  Raleigh  had  found 
Densdeth  in  the  demon.  That  malignant  face 
—  Densdeth's,  and  no  other  —  was  looking  at  me 
with  a  meaning  smile. 

I  tore  down  the  tapestry,  and  slunk  to  bed. 
The  blessing  sleep,  foreshadower  of  that  larger 


276  CECIL   DREEME. 

blessing  death,  fell  upon  me.  Sleep,  the  death 
after  the  brief  cycle  of  a  day,  received  me  ten 
derly,  and  restored  me,  that  I  might  be  man 
enough  to  bear  the  keener  pangs  and  sterner 
griefs  of  the  morrow. 


CHAPTER    XXIY. 

FAME  AWAITS  DREEME. 

I  WAS  indisposed  next  morning  to  face  my  as 
sociates  at  the  club,  or  any  chance  acquaintance 
at  the  Minedurt.  I  went  off  and  took  a  dismal, 
solitary  breakfast  at  Selleridge's.  The  place  had 
a  claim  on  my  gratitude,  since  it  had  supplied  the 
materials  of  our  gentle  orgie  in  Chrysalis. 

As  I  walked  forlornly  back,  I  endeavored  to 
prepare  myself  for  my  appointed  interview  with 
Emma  Denman. 

I  knew  that  a  woman  may  blind  herself  to  the 
measure  and  quality  of  a  man's  admiration ;  I 
knew  that  she  can  even  desperately  accept  his 
heart ;  but  I  also  knew  that  only  a  woman 
thoroughly  deteriorated  by  deceit  can  listen  to  a 
lover's  final  words  of  trust,  and  still  conceal  from 
him  one  single  fact  in  all  her  history  that  might 
forbid  his  love.  She  must  reveal,  or  let  her 
lover  know  she  cannot  reveal.  She  will,  unless 
she  has  grown  base  and  shameless,  scorn  to  be  a 
lie  —  yes,  even  for  a  moment,  after  the  avowal  of 
love  —  a  lie  to  one  she  loves,  whatever  the  truth 


278  CECIL  DKEEME. 

may  cost.  I  believed  that,  if  I  went  to  Emma 
Denman,  and  said,  "  We  are  before  God,  I  love 
you,"  she  would  be  true,  and,  if  the  truth  com 
manded,  would  say,  "  Robert,  you  must  not." 
So  waiting  until  our  interview,  I  held  my  agony 
under,  as  one  presses  a  finger  upon  a  torn  artery, 
while  the  surgeon  lingers. 

In  the  letter-box  in  my  door  at  Chrysalis  I 
found  this  note  :  — 

"  I  am  not  well.  I  cannot  see  you  this  morn 
ing.  I  will  write  again,  —  perhaps  to-day,  per 
haps  to-morrow. 

"EMMA  DENMAN." 

My  finger  on  the  bleeding  artery  a  little  longer. 

While  I  stood  reading  and  re-reading  this  bil 
let,  in  the  bewilderment  of  one  thrust  back  into 
suspense  from  the  brink  of  certainty,  I  heard  a 
knock  at  my  door. 

I  opened.     It  was  Pensal,  the  artist. 

Pensal  occupied  a  studio  in  a  granite  house 
which  continues  the  architecture  of  Chrysalis 
along  Mannering  Place.  It  had  once  been  a 
residence  for  the  President.  But  perhaps  the 
salary  of  that  official  grew  contingent,  —  perhaps 
it  was  paid  in  Muddefontaine  bonds.  Certain 
it  was  that  no  President  now  dwelt  in  this  sup 
plementary  building ;  but,  like  the  main  Chrysalis, 
it  was  let  to  lodgers.  Among  these  was  Pensal. 


CECIL   DREEME.  279 

A  friendship  had  begun  to  crystallize  between 
us.  He  was  a  profound  observer,  as  well  as  a 
great  artist. 

Pensal  came  in,  and  looked  at  me  for  a  moment 
in  silence. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  said  I.  "  What  new  do  you 
find  in  my  face  ?  " 

"  Much.  And  you  too  have  stepped  into  the 
Valley  of  the  Shadow  of  Death  ?  Well,  a  friend 
can  only  say,  God  help  you !  It  comes  to  us  all." 

"  Yes,  Pensal,  the  shadow  is  upon  me." 

"  It  will  pass  away.  You  cannot  believe  it 
now  ;  but  the  shadow  will  drift  away.  It  cannot 
blight  the  immortal  man.  Be  sure  of  that !  " 

"  But  there  is  immortal  grief." 

"  While  you  think  so,  you  have  a  right  to  look 
a  hundred  years  older  than  you  did  yesterday. 
But,  Byng,  I  came  to  ask  you  a  favor,  not  to 
criticise  you.  I  am  in  a  sea  of  troubles." 

"  '  Take  arms,  and  by  opposing  end  them.'  " 

"  Very  well  for  you  to  say,  who  know  better 
this  moment  by  your  own  experience.  So  far  as 
taking  arms  —  that  is  towels  and  sponges  — 
against  my  sea  can  go,  I  have  ended  it ;  but  its 
wet  bottom  remains.  The  fact  is,  that  I  am  suf 
fering  from  a  vulgar  misery.  My  Croton  pipe 
burst  in  the  thaw  last  night.  My  studio  is  the 
bed  of  a  lake  with  all  manner  of  drowned  ento 
mology,  looking  slimy  and  ichthyological." 


280  CECIL   DREEME. 

"  Do  bring  your  work  over  here." 

"Thank  you.  You  have  anticipated  my  re 
quest." 

"  You  are  a  godsend  to  me.  I  could  not  toler 
ate  this  morning  a  fellow  with  a  new  treasure- 
trove  of  scandal,  the  last  cynical  joke  or  base 
story  " ;  —  and  I  thought  of  Densdeth,  and  other 
men,  the  coarsened  and  exaggerated  shadows  of 
Densdeth,  who  sometimes  lounged  in  upon  me 
for  a  lazy  hour. 

"I  will  be  a  treble  godsend,"  said  Pensal.  "  I 
will  bring  you  not  only  myself,  but  two  friends, 
whose  lips  or  hearts  are  never  sullied  with  any 
thing  scandalous  or  cynical." 

"  A  pair  of  plaster  casts,  —  a  pair  of  lay  fig 
ures  ?  " 

"  You  are  cynical  yourself.  No ;  two  men, 
fresh  and  pure." 

"  En  avant,  with  such  sports  of  Nature  !  " 

"  With  such  types  of  manhood !  Sion,  the 
sculptor,  is  in  town  for  a  day  or  two.  I  caught 
him  last  night,  and  he  promised  to  sit  to  me  this 
morning.  Towers,  also,  is  to  come  and  stir  up 
Sion  while  he  sits,  —  to  put  him  through  his  paces 
of  expression." 

"  Ah,  Towers  and  Sion  !  I  withdraw  my  doubts. 
If  my  great  barn  here  will  serve  you,  pray  bring 
your  tools  and  your  men  over  at  once." 

Pensal  went  off  for  his  friends. 


CECIL  DREEME.  281 

I  was  delighted  with  this  interruption.  It  was 
a  tourniquet  on  the  bleeding  artery. 

I  had  felt  too  forlorn  to  solace  myself  with 
Cecil  Dreeme's  society  this  morning.  I  was  con 
scious,  also,  that  I  could  not  see  him  now  without 
pouring  forth  the  whole  story  of  my  doubtful  love 
for  Emma  Denman,  my  hesitant  resolve  to  be  her 
lover,  the  shock  of  last  night,  and  the  suspense 
of  to-day.  All  this,  with  only  the  name  sup 
pressed,  I  knew  must  gush  from  me  when  I  saw 
my  friend  of  friends.  And  yet,  by  a  certain  in 
explicable  instinct,  I  shrank  from  thrusting  such 
confidence  upon  him.  I  loved  him  too  much, 
and  with  too  peculiar  a  tenderness,  to  tell  him 
that  I  had  fancied  I  loved  even  a  woman  better 
than  him. 

I  had  said  to  myself,  "  I  will  wait  for  my  usual 
evening  walk  with  Dreeme,  and  then,  if  my  heart 
opens  toward  him,  I  will  let  the  current  flow. 
He  cannot  console ;  he  will  teach  me  to  be  pa 
tient." 

Meantime  I  welcomed  the  visit  of  Pensal  and 
our  two  friends,  as  a  calm  distraction  in  my  mis 
erable  mood.  I  was  too  much  shaken  and  un 
manned  to  trust  myself  out  in  the  world  and  at 
my  tasks. 

Presently  Pensal  arrived  with  the  two  gentle 
men,  and  set  up  his  easel  before  my  window. 

I  need  hardly  describe  men  so  well  known  as 


282  CECIL   DEEEME. 

the  three  artists,  Sion,  Towers,  and  Pensal.  In 
deed,  as  their  business  in  this  drama  is  merely  to 
hasten  one  event  by  a  few  hours,  it  would  be 
impertinent  to  distinguish  them  as  salient  char 
acters.  I  glance  at  them  merely,  as  they  enter, 
halt  a  moment,  do  their  part  and  disappear. 

It  was  a  blessed  relief  to  me  that  morning  to 
have  their  society.  And  now  that  I  compel  my 
self  to  write  this  sorrowful  history,  the  relief  is 
hardly  less,  to  pause  here  and  recall  how  blessed 
then  it  was.  I  had  never  known  fully  until  then 
what  it  was  to  have  the  friendship  of  pure  and 
true  hearts. 

Pensal  sat  down  and  wielded  his  crayon  with 
a  rapid  hand.  Each  of  the  party,  artist,  sitter, 
critic,  began  to  scintillate,  to  flash  and  glow, 
according  to  the  fire  that  was  in  him. 

Stillfleet's  collection  suggested  much  of  our 
conversation.  It  was,  as  I  have  said,  an  epitome 
of  all  history.  My  three  guests  took  the  Ameri 
can  view  of  history  ;  that,  give  the  world  results, 
the  means  by  which  those  results  were  attained 
cease  to  be  of  any  profound  value  or  interest. 
Everything  ancient  is  perpetually  on  its  trial,  — 
whether  its  day  has  not  come  to  be  superannuated, 
and  so  respectably  buried.  Antiquity  deserves 
commendation  and  gratitude ;  but  no  peculiar 
reverence  or  indulgence.  The  facts  and  systems 
of  the  past  are  mainly  rubbish  now ;  what  is 


CECIL  DREEME.  283 

precious  is  the  spirit  of  the  present,  which  those 
systems  have  reared,  or  at  least  failed  to  strangle, 
and  those  facts  have  mauled  strong  and  tempered 
fine. 

These  three  great  artists  act  on  this  theory, 
adapted  to  art.  Hence  their  vigor.  Hence  also 
their  recognition  by  a  nation  whose  principle  is 
faith  in  the  present,  —  the  only  healthy  faith  for 
a  man  or  Man. 

While  the  magnetic  current  of  a  lively  conver 
sation  flowed,  Pensal  worked  away  at  his  paper. 

Presently,  on  the  blank  surface,  a  semblance  of 
a  man's  face  began  to  appear,  rather  fancied  than 
distinguished,  as  we  behold  a  countenance  far 
away,  and  say,  "  Who  is  it  ?  "  —  the  question 
implying  the  instant  answer,  as  we  approach, 
"  It  is  he !  " 

Sion's  head,  mildly  lion-like,  grew  forth  from 
the  sheet,  —  lion-like,  with  its  heavy  mane  of  hair 
and  beard.  A  potent  face,  but  gentle. 

Slowly  the  creation  grew  more  distinct.  The 
face  drew  near,  and  demanded  recognition  for  its 
spiritual  traits. 

It  was  Sion's  self. 

And  yet  it  was  not  the  Sion  who  sat  there 
before  us,  in  high  spirits,  making  jokes,  telling 
stories,  laughing  with  a  frank  and  almost  boyish 
gayety  of  heart,  as  if  his  life  was  all  careless  jubi 
lee,  and  never  visited  by  those  dreams  of  tender, 


284  CECIL   DREEME. 

nay,  of  pensive  and  of  melancholy  sweetness, 
which  he  puts  into  undying  marble. 

Yet  it  was  this  joyous  companion  too,  and 
the  other  and  many  another  Sion,  whom  we 
had  always  known,  but  never  perceived  that 
we  had  known,  until  this  moment. 

In  fact,  Pensal,  a  master,  had  not  merely  seized 
and  combined  the  essence  of  all  Sion's  possible 
looks  in  all  possible  moods ;  but  he  had  divined 
and  created  the  inspiration  the  sculptor's  face 
would  wear,  if  changeful  mortal  features  could 
show  the  calm  and  final  beauty  of  the  immortal 
soul.  The  picture  was  Sion's  apotheosis. 

"  Come  and  look  at  yourself,  Sion,"  said  Tow 
ers,  as  this  expression  at  last  by  a  subtle  touch 
revealed  itself.  "  Pensal  has  drawn  you  as  you 
will  look  in  Yalhalla,  if  you  are  a  good  boy, 
and  don't  make  any  bad  statues,  and  so  get  your 
own  niche  there  at  last." 

Sion  stepped  round  to  survey  himself. 

"  I  am  lucky,"  said  he,  "  Pensal,  to  have 
nothing  to  be  ashamed  of  lurking  in  my  heart. 
You  would  be  forced  to  obey  your  insight,  drag 
it  out,  and  set  it  inexorably  in  full  view,  in 
my  portrait.  It  's  well  for  Byng,  there,  that 
you  are  not  doing  him  this  morning." 

"Why?"  said  I. 

"You  look  as  if  '  Et  tu,  Brute?'  had  been 
giving  you  a  deadly  stab.  But  what  a  poor 


CECIL  DREEME.  285 

bungler,  compared  with  Pensal,  the  sun  is  in 
picturing  men  !  "  continued  Sion.  "  To  say 
nothing  of  his  swelling  our  noses  and  blubber 
ing  our  lips,  spoiling  our  lights  and  blackening 
our  shades,  he  can  only  take  us  as  we  choose  to 
look  while  he  is  having  his  little  wink  at  us." 

"  And  a  man  cannot  choose  to  look  his  noblest 
on  occasion.  A  got-up  look  is  generally  a  grim 
ace,"  says  Towers. 

"  Well,  Pensal,"  said  Sion,  "  your  picture  con 
vinces  me  that  I  am  not  a  miserable  failure  and 
a  humbug,  who  cannot  see  anything  in  marble 
or  out.  Now  let  me  free  for  a  moment.  I 
am  tired  of  sitting  to  be  probed  and  flayed." 

Sion  took  his  furlough,  and  strayed  about  the 
room,  glancing  at  Stillfleet's  precious  objects.  I 
stepped  aside  to  get  a  cigar  for  Pensal. 

"  Ah !  "  cried  Sion.  "  Here  is  a  fresh  thing. 
This  was  never  painted  in  Europe ;  and  yet  I 
do  not  know  any  one  here  who  could  do  it." 

He  had  found  the  sketch,  my  present  from 
Cecil  Dreeme.  In  my  sickness  of  heart  last 
night,  I  had  neglected  the  painter's  injunction, 
and  left  it  exposed  on  my  table,  half  covered 
by  a  newspaper. 

Sion  held  it  up  for  inspection. 

Now  that  it  had  been  seen,  there  was  nothing 
to  do,  except  to  get  the  approval  of  these  final 
authorities,  and  communicate  it  to  Dreeme. 


286  CECIL   DREEME. 

"  It  is  a  new  hand,"  said  I,  "  what  do  you 
think  of  it  ?  " 

"  She  has  great  power,  as  well  as  delicacy," 
said  Pensal,  —  the  others  waiting  for  him  to 
speak. 

"  She !    Who  ? "    I  asked. 

"  The  artist." 

"  Odd  fancy  of  yours !    It  is  a  man." 

"  What !  and  paint  only  a  back  view  of  a 
woman  ?  I  supposed  that  being  a  woman,  as 
the  general  handling  too  suggests,  she  took  less 
interest  in  her  own  sex ;  or,  on  the  other  hand, 
fancied  that  she  could  not  represent  it  worthily." 

"  0  no  !  "  said  I.    "  He  had  no  female  model." 

"  Probably,"  said  Towers,  "  he  is  too  young 
to  have  a  woman's  image  in  his  brain,  which 
fevers  him  until  he  wreaks  it  on  a  canvas." 

"  Man  or  woman,"  said  Sion,  "  and  I  confess 
it  seems  to  me  to  have  a  somewhat  epicene 
character,  it  is  a  very  promising  work,  —  a  pretty 
anecdote  well  told.  I  should  like  to  see  what 
this  C.  D. — it  seems  to  be  so  signed  —  can  do 
in  other  subjects  calling  for  deeper  feeling." 

"  A  friend  of  mine  in  the  building  has  other 
drawings  and  sketches  by  the  same  hand.  I 
will  see  if  I  can  borrow  them,"  said  I. 

"  Do,"  said  Sion.  "  If  they  are  worthy  of 
this,  we  must  know  him,  and  have  him  known 
at  once.  Fame  waits  him.  Here  is  that  fine 
something  called  Genius." 


CECIL   DREEME.  287 

If  Dreeme  would  only  profit  by  this  chance, 
and  give  his  fame  into  the  hands  of  my  friends, 
his  success  was  achieved. 

I  forgot  my  own  sorrows,  and  ran  up-stairs, 
eager  to  persuade  the  recluse  to  seize  this  mo 
ment,  to  terminate  his  exile  and  step  forth  into 
the  light  of  day. 


CHAPTER    XXY. 

CHURM  BEFORE  DREEME'S  PICTURE. 

FULL  of  hope  for  my  friend,  I  left  the  three 
artists  below,  and  darted  up  to  his  studio. 

I  knocked  lightly,  thinking  a  quick  ear  listened, 
and  a  quick  voice  would  respond. 

No  answer. 

I  knocked  again,  distinctly  and  deliberately, 
and  listened  with  some  faint  beginning  of  anx 
iety.  Yesterday  I  had  not  seen  him.  Was  he 
ill  again  ? 

Still  no  answer. 

All  the  remembrance  of  the  night  when  Locks- 
ley  and  I  first  made  entrance  there  rushed  back 
upon  me. 

I  knocked  once  more,  and  spoke  my  name. 

Again  no  answer. 

I  thundered  at  the  door,  striking  it  hard  enough 
to  hurt  the  dull  wood  that  was  baffling  me. 

Profound  silence  within. 

"  Is  it  possible  that  he  has  ventured  out  into 
daylight  ?  It  would  be  an  unlucky  moment  for 
his  first  absence,  now  when  good-fortune  waits  to 


CECIL  DREEME.  289 

befall  him.  His  Fame  is  here,  holding  her  breath 
to  trumpet  him,  and  he  is  away." 

At  the  same  time  I  doubted  much  if  he  could 
have  gone.  His  terror  of  exposing  himself  was 
still  great,  and  would  be  more  extravagant  after 
his  panic-struck  flight  from  Densdeth. 

An  indefinable  dread  seized  upon  me.  I  re 
sisted,  and  dashed  down  stairs  to  the  janitor's 
room. 

I  knocked  peremptorily. 

Locksley  peered  out,  holding  the  door  ajar. 

"  Dreeme  !  "  whispered  I,  panting,  "  do  you 
know  anything  of  Dreeme  ?  " 

"  It 's  you,  sir,"  says  Locksley.  "  Come  in.  It 
was  only  strangers  I  was  keeping  out." 

"  Don't  let  any  one  enter,"  said  a  voice  within, 
—  a  miserable  voice,  between  a  whimper  and  a 
moan. 

"  He  won't  hurt  you,  Towner,"  said  Locksley. 
"  This  is  Mr.  Byng,  a  friend  of  Mr.  Churm's." 

The  janitor  looked  worn  and  worried.  By  the 
stove,  in  a  rocking-chair,  sat,  slinking,  a  misera 
ble  figure  of  a  man.  There  sat  Towner,  a  blood 
less,  unwholesome  being,  sick  of  himself,  —  that 
most  tenacious  and  incurable  of  all  diseases. 
There  he  sat,  sick  with  that  chronic  malady, 
himself,  —  a  self  all  vice,  all  remorse,  and  all  de 
spair.  Himself,  —  his  cowering  look  said  that  he 
knew  the  fatal  evil  that  was  devouring  his  life, 

13  s 


290  CECIL   DREEME. 

and  that  he  longed  to  free  himself  from  its  bane 
by  one  bold  act  of  surgery,  such  as  his  evasive 
eyes  would  never  venture  to  face,  such  as  his 
nerveless  fingers  dared  not  execute. 

My  glance  identified  the  man,  but  I  did  not 
pause  to  study  him.  I  had  my  own  troubles  to 
consider. 

"  Locksley,"  I  said,  seizing  him  by  the  arm, 
"  where  is  Cecil  Dreeme  ?  " 

My  perturbation  communicated  itself  to  the 
janitor. 

"  Yes,"  said  he, "  I  had  n't  given  my  mind  to  it ; 
but  he  did  not  answer  when  Dora  went  up  with 
his  breakfast.  Then  Towner  was  brought  in, 
and  we  Ve  been  so  busy  with  him  that  I  forgot 
to  send  her  up  again." 

"  He  is  not  there.  He  does  not  answer  my 
knock." 

"  Going  out  in  the  daytime  is  as  unlikely  for 
him  as  the  sun's  showing  at  midnight.  I  mis 
trust  something  's  happened." 

"  Do  not  say  so,  Locksley.  Disaster  to  him  is 
misery  to  me.  Yes,  double  misery  to-day !  " 

"  Did  you  have  your  walk  together  last  night  ?  " 

"No.     I  was  at  the  opera  until  late." 

"  We  must  try  his  door  again." 

"  I  can't  be  left  here  alone,"  feebly  protested 
Towner. 

"  Dora  will  take  care  of  you." 


CECIL  DEEEME.  291 

"  But  Densdeth  might  come,"  shuddered  the 
invalid. 

"  He  never  comes  here.  He  'd  better  not,"  said 
Locksley,  bristling. 

"  Who  keeps  the  key  of  his  dark  room  ?  " 

"  His  servant,  I  suppose.  Come,  Mr.  Byng." 
Locksley  led  the  way  up  stairs.  "  Towner  is  n't 
long  for  this  world,  you  see,"  said  he.  "  We 
thought  he  'd  better  die  among  friends.  Mr. 
Churm  will  be  back  this  morning  to  talk  to  him, 
and  get  his  facts." 

It  was  afternoon,  and  the  boys  of  Chrysalis, 
the  College,  were  skylarking  in  the  main  corri 
dor.  Their  rumor  died  away  as  we  climbed  the 
stairs.  It  was  as  quiet  at  Cecil  Dreeme's  door 
as  on  the  night  when  we  first  forced  entrance,  — 
as  quiet  without,  and,  when  we  knocked,  as  silent 
within. 

Locksley  tried  the  door.  It  was  unlocked. 
He  opened.  We  entered,  in  a  tremor  of  ap 
prehension. 

My  friend  of  friends  was  gone !  Gone !  and 
another,  some  unfriendly  and  insolent  intruder, 
had  been  there  desecrating  the  place.  The 
picture  of  Lear  was  flung  from  the  easel  and 
lying  on  the  floor.  The  portfolio  was  open,  and 
its  drawings  scattered.  Upon  one  —  a  sketch 
of  two  sisters  tending  a  mild  and  venerable 
father  —  a  careless  heel  had  trodden.  Even  the 


292  CECIL   DREEME. 

bedroom  the  same  rude  visitor  had  violated, 
and  articles  of  the  young  painter's  limited  ward 
robe  lay  about.  How  different  from  the  order 
that  usually  lent  elegance  to  his  bare  walls  and 
scanty  furniture  ! 

Locksley  and  I  looked  at  each  other  in  indig 
nant  consternation. 

"  My  old  scare  has  got  hold,  and  is  shaking 
me  hard,"  said  the  janitor.  "  Some  of  them 
he  was  hiding  from  must  have  found  him  out, 
and  been  here  rummaging,  to  pry  into  what 
he  's  been  at  all  this  time.  When  did  you 
see  him,  Mr.  Byng  ?  " 

"  Not  yesterday.  Night  before  last,  —  can  it 
be  only  night  before  last  that  we  met  Dens- 
deth  ?  » 

"  Densdeth  !  "  said  Locksley,  bristling  more 
than  ever  with  alarm.  "  Is  he  in  this  business  ?  " 

"  I  dread  to  think  so,"  said  I,  unnerved,  and 
sinking  into  Dreeme's  arm-chair.  And  then 
across  my  mind  flitted  my  friend's  warnings 
against  Densdeth,  the  meeting  at  Mrs.  Bilkes's 
steps,  the  covert  inspection,  Densdeth's  trium 
phant,  cruel  look,  the  panic,  the  flight,  the  con 
versation,  —  all  the  mystery  of  Dreeme. 

"  What  are  we  going  to  do  ? "  said  Locksley, 
staring  at  me,  in  a  maze.  "  Henry  Clay's  ghost 
could  n't  persuade  me  that  Mr.  Dreeme  had 
got  himself  into  a  scrape.  Something's  hap- 


CECIL   DREEME.  293 

pened  to  the  lad.  His  enemies  have  taken  hold 
of  him.  Why  did  you  leave  him,  Mr.  Byng?  *' 

"  Why  did  I  leave  him  ?  Why  ?  To  be  taught 
the  bitterest  lesson  a  soul  can  learn,"  said  I ; 
and  again  I  seemed  to  hear  that  mocking  sound 
of  Densde th's  laugh,  echoed  from  the  lips  of 
Emma  Denman,  in  the  corridor  of  the  Opera- 
House  ;  again  I  seemed  to  see  that  hateful  look 
of  hers.  The  blight  fell  upon  me  more  cruelly. 
I  could  not  act. 

"  If  Mr.  Churm  were  only  here  !  "  said  Locks- 
ley,  forlornly,  seeing  my  prostration. 

With  the  word,  there  came  through  the  open 
door  the  sound  of  a  heavy  trunk  bumping  up 
the  staircase,  now  dinting  the  wall,  and  now 
cracking  the  banisters,  and  presently  we  heard 
Churm's  hearty  voice  hail  from  below :  "  Hillo, 
porter !  that 's  the  wrong  way." 

"  There  comes  help,"  cried  Locksley. 

"  Call  him  up,"  said  I,  and  the  janitor  hurried 
after  him. 

In  came  Churm,  sturdy,  benevolent,  wise.  His 
moral  force  rein  vigor  ated  me  at  a  glance.  His 
keen,  brave  face  solved  difficulty,  and  cleared 
doubt. 

"  What  is  it,  Byng  ?  "  said  he.  "  What  has 
come  to  this  young  painter  ?  " 

Before  I  could  answer,  his  eye  caught  Dreeme's 
picture  of  Lear,  resting  against  the  easel,  where 


294  CECIL   DREEME. 

I  had  replaced  it.  His  calm  manner  was  gone. 
He  sprang  forward,  kneeled  before  the  easel, 
stared  intently.  Then  he  looked  eagerly  at  me. 

u  What  does  this  mean  ?  "  he  exclaimed. 

"  Mean  !  "  repeated  I,  astonished  at  his  manner. 

"  Yes.  Who  painted  this  ?  "  He  spoke  almost 
frantically. 

"  Cecil  Dreeme,"  I  replied. 

"  Cecil  Dreeme !  Cecil  Dreeme  !  Who  is  Cecil 
Dreeme  ?  " 

"  The  young  painter  who  lives  here." 

"  Where  is  he  ?    Where  ?  " 

"  Gone,  spirited  away,  I  fear." 

"  What  are  you  doing  here,"  said  he,  almost 
fiercely. 

"  Mr.  Churm,"  said  I,  "  I  do  not  under 
stand  your  tone  nor  your  manner.  What  do 
you  know  of  this  recluse  ?  " 

I  seemed  faintly  to  remember  how  Dreeme 
had  shown  a  slight  repugnance,  more  than  once, 
'When  I  named  Churm  as  a  trusty  friend. 

"You,  —  what  do  you  know,"  he  rejoined, 
staring  again  at  the  picture.  "  Tell  me,  sir ; 
what  do  you  know  ?  " 

"  In  a  word,  this,"  replied  I,  resolved  not 
to  take  offence  at  his  roughness.  "  The  even 
ing  I  moved  into  Chrysalis,  Locksley  called  me 
to  go  up  with  him  to  this  chamber.  He  feared 
the  tenant  was  dying  alone." 


CECIL   DREEME.  295 

"  Poor  child  !  poor  child  !  "  interjected  Churm. 

"  We  broke  in,  and  found  him  in  a  death- 
trance.  Locksley's  thoughtfulness  saved  him. 
We  soon  warmed,  fed,  and  cheered  him  back 
to  life." 

"  God  bless  you  both !  "  said  Churm,  fervently. 

"  Churm,"  I  asked,  "  what  does  this  mean  ? 
Do  you  know  my  friend  ?  " 

"  Go  on  !     Tell  your  story  !  " 

"  Little  to  tell  of  fact,  much  of  feeling.  There 
was  a  mystery  about  Mr.  Dreeme.  I  took  him, 
mystery  and  all,  unquestioned,  to  my  heart  of 
hearts.  He  was  utterly  alone,  and  I  befriended 
him.  I  befriended  unawares  an  angel.  He  has 
been  blue  sky  to  me." 

"  I  am  sure  of  it,"  said  Churm ;  "  but  the 
facts,  Byng !  the  facts  of  his  disappearance  !  " 

"  He  kept  himself  absolutely  secluded.  He 
never  saw  out-of-doors  by  daylight.  We  walked 
together  constantly  in  the  evening.  I  made  it 
my  duty  to  force  him  to  a  constitutional  every 
day.  We  were  walking  as  usual  night  before 
last,  when  we  met  Densdeth." 

"  No ! "  exclaimed  Churm,  vehemently.  "  Dens 
deth  !  I  have  been  waiting  for  that  name.  Has 
he  put  his  cloven  hoof  on  this  trail  ?  " 

"  Densdeth  observed  us.  I  noticed  ugly  tri 
umph  in  his  face.  Dreeme  was  struck  with  a 
panic  at  this  meeting.  I  thought  it  instinct.  It 


296  CECIL   DREEME. 

may  have  been  knowledge.  Densdeth,  we  sus 
pected,  followed  us.  Dreeme  dragged  me  away 
in  flight.  But  it  would  be  easy  for  Densdeth,  if 
he  pleased,  to  watch  Chrysalis,  see  me  enter,  and 
identify  my  companion.  I  am  all  in  the  dark, 
Churin.  Can  you  help  me  to  any  light  ?  " 

"  Let  us  hope  so  !   Locksley,  is  Towner  here  ?  " 

"  Yes  sir ;  and  ready  to  make  a  clean  breast 
of  it." 

"  Bring  him  up  to  Mr.  Byng's  quarters.  I  have 
no  fire,  and  the  poor  creature  must  be  coddled. 
I  may  take  this  liberty,  Byng?  You  are  inter 
ested.  It  may  touch  the  question  of  Dreeme. 
It  does  so,  I  believe." 

"  Certainly ;  my  room  is  yours.  Pensal  was 
there,  drawing  Sion  ;  but  he  will  be  done  by  this 
time.  But,  my  dear  friend,  do  you  penetrate 
this  mystery  of  Cecil  Dreeme's  ?  Tell  me  at 
once.  He  is  dearer  to  me  than  a  brother." 

"  Robert,"  said  Churm,  with  grave  tenderness 
of  manner,  "  look  at  that  picture,  —  that  tragic 
protest  against  a  parental  infamy.  Have  you 
ever  seen  those  faces  ?  " 

"  Dreeme  womanized  himself  for  his  Cordelia. 
I  have  sometimes  had  a  flitting  fancy  that  I  had 
seen  people  like  his  Lear  and  Goneril.  They  are 
types  so  vigorous  that  they  seem  real." 

"  They  are  real." 

"  Who  ?  Churm,  if  you  know  anything  of  my 
friend,  do  not  agonize  me  by  concealment." 


CECIL  DREEME.  297 

"  Be  blind  until  your  eyes  open !  " 

We  were  at  my  door  as  he  spoke. 

Artist,  sitter,  and  critic  were  moving  to  depart. 
I  made  the  apology  of  "  business "  for  quitting 
them. 

"  Keep  at  such  business,"  said  Pensal,  with  a 
keen  glance  at  me,  "  and  you  will  knock  off  the 
other  seventy-five  years  of  your  new  century." 

"  Yes,"  said  Towers  (artist's  insight  again), 
"  Byng  has  taken  a  dip  into  counter-irritation 
and  mended  his  paralysis  of  this  morning." 

"  A  fair  stab,"  says  Sion,  "  has  made  him  forget 
the  foul  one." 

So  they  took  their  leave. 

"  Do  you  remember,"  Churm  said,  as  he  seated 
himself  in  a  great  arm-chair  of  black  carved  oak, 
"  my  fancy,  when  we  first  talked  here,  that  this 
would  be  a  fit  chamber  for  a  Yehmgericht  ?  " 

"  It  was  prophetic.  We  are  to  try  the  very 
culprit  you  hinted  then,  —  Densdeth." 

"  Not  in  person,  unless  he  may  be  lurking  there 
in  his  dark  room,  to  listen." 

"  Do  not  speak  of  it !  Now  that  I  begin  to 
know  more  of  Densdeth,  the  thought  of  that 
place  sickens  me." 

"  He  has  harmed  you,  then,  in  my  absence." 

"  I  fear  a  bitter  treachery,"  said  I ;  and  my 
cheeks  burned  as  I  spoke. 

"  Is  it  so  ?  "  said  Churm,  sadly.     "  I  dreaded 

13* 


298  CECIL   DREEME. 

it,  and  warned  you  as  clearly  as  I  dared.  But 
we  will  save  Cecil  Dreeme.  Yes,  the  ruin  is 
terrible,  —  but  this  last  must  be  saved." 

Here  Locksley  entered,  with  Towner  following, 
wrapped  in  a  great  dressing-gown.  It  was  plain, 
as  Locksley  had  said,  that  the  invalid  was  not 
long  for  this  world.  But  yet  there  seemed  to 
glimmer  through  the  man's  weakness  a  little 
remnant  of  force,  well-nigh  quenched.  It  might 
still  burn  hot  for  an  instant,  if  a  blast  touched 
it ;  but  such  a  flash  would  search  out  all  the  fuel, 
and  leave  only  ashes  when  it  expired. 


CHAPTER    XXYI. 

T  OWNER. 

THE  invalid  peered  cautiously  into  my  room, 
halting  on  the  threshold  to  inspect. 

"  Who  is  there  ?  "  said  he. 

"  Nobody  but  Mr.  Churm,"  replied  Locksley. 

"  Promise  me  that  on  your  honor !  " 

"  Certainly.  But  have  n't  you  known  me  long 
enough  to  be  sure  that  I  'm  always  upon  honor  ? 
Come  on  !  " 

He  entered  feebly,  shrinking  from  the  sound 
of  his  own  footsteps. 

"  Is  there  nobody  in  those  small  rooms  ?  "  he 
asked.  "  Nobody  listening  ?  " 

"  Show  him,  Locksley,  to  satisfy  him,"  said  I. 

Towner  examined  my  bath-room,  my  bed 
room,  and  then  my  lumber-room. 

"  Where  does  that  door  in  the  lumber-room 
open  ?  "  said  he,  tremulously.  "  Into  Dens- 
de th's  dark  room  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Take  me  down  stairs  again,  Locksley.  I 
can't  stay  here." 


800  CECIL   DREEME. 

"  Why,  man !  "  said  I,  "  the  door  is  bolted 
solid ;  those  heavy  boxes  are  between  us  and 
it,  and  here  is  another  door  which  we  can  close 
and  lock.  Three  of  us  too  to  protect  you.  You 
are  safe  from  Densdeth." 

"  You  don't  know  him  !  "  and  Towner  shud 
dered,  and  would  have  fallen.  Locksley  dropped 
him  into  an  arm-chair  by  the  stove.  He  seemed 
hopelessly  prostrated. 

I  poured  him  out  some  brandy.  The  antique 
flask  and  goblet  touched  his  fancy.  He  exam 
ined  them  with  a  pleased,  childish  interest,  and 
glanced  about  the  room,  observing  the  objects, 
while  he  sipped  his  restorative  with  feeble  lips. 

"  Evidently  not  a  bad  man  by  nature,"  I 
thought.  "  Only  an  impressible  one,  —  one  who 
should  cry  daily  and  hourly,  '  Lord,  deliver  me 
from  temptation ! '  If  his  superior  being  and 
chosen  guide  had  been  a  hero,  and  not  a  devil 
like  Densdeth,  he  might  never  have  become  the 
poor  dastard  he  is." 

"You  have  a  pretty  place  here,  Mr.  Byng," 
said  Towner,  revived  by  his  brandy,  and  assum 
ing  the  air  of  a  welcome  guest  and  patronizing 
critic.  It  sat  strangely  on  him  after  his  recent 
trepidation.  The  man  had  the  small  social  van 
ity  of  connoisseurship.  It  was  one  of  Dens-. 
deth's  favorite  weaknesses  ;  he  loved  to  make 
confident  ignoramuses  talk  of  horses,  wines,  pic- 


CECIL  DREEME.%  301 

tures,  subjects  on  which  a  little  knowledge  gen 
erally  makes  a  man  a  fool.  Deusdeth  had  no 
doubt  found  Towner's  ambition  toward  the  tastes 
of  a  gentleman  a  mighty  ally  in  mastering  the 
man. 

"  Yes,  quite  a  museum,"  replied  I,  humoring 
him.  Talking  a  little,  I  thought,  would  tran 
quillize  him  for  business,  —  the  hard  task  of  con 
fessing  himself  a  culprit. 

"  Very  fine  paintings  !  "  he  continued.  "  I 
have  a  taste  for  such  things.  Not  a  connoisseur  ! 
Only  an  amateur,  with  a  smattering  of  knowl 
edge  !  Art  refines  the  character  wonderfully. 
I  wish  I  had  been  introduced  to  it  younger.  You 
would  n't  guess  now,  Mr.  Byng,  what  kind  of 
scenery  surrounded  my  childhood." 

"  No,"  said  I,  growing  impatient.     "  What  ?  " 

"  My  father  was  the  county  jailer  of  Highland 
County.  Instead  of  pictures  and  statues,  my  ear 
liest  recollections  are  of  thieves  pitching  pennies 
in  the  jail-yard.  Bad  schooling  for  a  boy,  was  it 
not  ?  I  remember  the  first  hanging  I  saw,  as  if 
it  were  yesterday.  The  man's  name  was  Benton 
Dulany.  He  robbed  and  killed  his  father.  In 
his  dying  speech  he  said,  that  he  never  should 
have  got  religion,  if  it  had  n't  been  for  his  errors  ; 
but  now  he  was  going  straight  to  Abraham's 
bosom.  And  then  a  man,  up  in  an  elm-tree  out 
side  the  jail-yard,  shouted,  '  Say,  Benton !  tell 


302  ^CECIL   DEEEME. 

old  Abe  to  keep  some  bosom  for  me ! ''  Every 
body  roared,  and  the  drop  fell." 

"  You  know  what  you  came  here  for,  Towner," 
said  Churm,  sternly.  "  Not  to  babble  about  your 
youth." 

"  Yes,  yes,"  said  the  invalid,  uneasily.  "  But 
I  don't  want  you  to  be  too  hard  on  me.  I  want 
you  to  see  that  I  have  n't  had  a  fair  chance.  No 
one  ever  showed  me  how  to  keep  straight,  and 
naturally  I  went  crooked." 

"  If  I  had  not  understood  your  character  long 
ago,  I  should  not  have  interfered  to  protect  you," 
said  Churm.  "  But  come  to  the  point !  " 

"  You  will  keep  me  safe  from  Densdeth  ?  " 

"  He  shall  never  touch  you." 

"  His  touch  on  my  heart  is  what  I  dread,  Mr. 
Churm.  The  first  time  he  saw  me,  he  laid  his 
finger  on  the  bad  spot  in  my  nature,  and  it 
itched  to  spread.  I  've  been  his  slave,  soul  and 
body,  from  that  moment.  God  knows  I  've  tried 
to  draw  back  times  enough.  He  always  waited 
until  I  was  just  beginning  to  regain  my  self- 
respect.  Then  he  would  come  up  to  me,  in  his 
quiet  way,  and  look  at  me  with  his  yellow  eyes, 
and  smile  at  me  with  that  devilish  smile,  and  say, 
"  Come,  Towner,  don't  be  a  prig  !  Here  's  some 
thing  for  you  to  do."  It  was  always  a  villany, 
and  I  always  did  it.  It  would  take  me  days  to 
tell  you  the  base  things  I  have  done  to  help 


CECIL   DEEEME.  303 

Dcnsdeth  to  his  million  and  his  power.  He  has 
been  the  malignant  curse  of  my  life.  I  feel  him 
now  in  my  very  soul,  whispering  me  not  to  make 
confidants  of  people  that  will  only  hate  me  for 
my  guilt  and  scorn  me  for  my  weakness." 

"Brother-in-law,"  said  Locksley,  "you  ought 
to  know  better  than  to  think  of  hate  and  scorn 
when  you  face  Mr.  Churm." 

"  I  do  know  better.  I  know  that  those  are 
only  devil-whispers.  If  I  had  merely  been  in 
general  a  bad  man,  Mr.  Churm,  I  could  endure 
your  just  judgment,  and  if  you  said  mercy  and 
pardon,  I  could  believe  that  God  would  approve 
your  sentence.  But  I  have  wronged  you  and 
yours.  Can  you  forgive  that  ?  " 

"  Try  me,"  said  Churm. 

"  Mr.  Churm,"  said  the  invalid,  "  I  have 
always  lied  to  you  about  the  death  of  Clara 
Denman." 

"  So  I  supposed,"  Churm  said,  quietly  ;  "  but 
do  you  know  anything  of  her  fate." 

"  Nothing.  You  may  get  some  clew  from 
what  I  tell  you." 

"  Speak,  then,"  said  Churm  ;  "  I  listen." 

"  I  need  not  go  through  a  long  story  to  tell 
you  how  Densdeth  mastered  Mr.  Denman.  It  is 
really  a  short  story,  and  old  enough.  Denman 
had  an  uneasy  feeling  that,  with  all  his  money, 
he  was  Nobody.  He  fancied  more  money  would 


804  CECIL   DREEME. 

make  him  Somebody.  That  was  basis  enough 
for  Densdeth.  What  a  child  Denman  was  in  his 
hands !  It  was  Densdeth  who  suggested,  and  I 
who  had  to  stand  the  odium  of,  that  first  scheme 
of  Denman's,  to  trample  on  the  rights  of  the 
minority,  and  get  the  property  of  his  railroad 
company  into  his  own  hands." 

"  I  remember  your  share  in  the  business,"  said 
Churm.  "  I  suspected  Densdeth's.  Poor  Den 
man  !  " 

"  Poor  Denman  ! "  repeated  Towner,  peevishly. 
"  I  don't  see  why  he  should  have  more  sympathy 
than  others." 

"  No  more,  but  equal  pity,"  rejoined  Churm. 

"  That  transaction  was  Densdeth's  first  victory 
over  Denman.  From  that  time  Denman,  and 
whatever  he  had,  was  Densdeth's.  If  I  am  not 
wrong,  there  is  another,  still  in  that  house,  that 
he  has  harmed,  if  not  spoiled." 

I  sat  by,  in  agony,  listening,  —  in  sorrow  first, 
to  find  the  reconstructed  fabric  of  my  respect 
for  my  father's  friend  and  my  own  on  the  way 
to  ruin,  —  in  agony,  now,  at  this  dark  allusion, 
which  my  heart  interpreted.  I  sat  by,  listening, 
in  a  crushed  mood,  for  further  revelations  of 
guilt  and  sorrow.  Pitiable  !  and  I  seemed  to 
detect,  even  in  the  remorse  and  self-reproach  of 
the  pitiful  object  before  me,  a  trace  of  vulgar 
triumph  that  he  was  not  the  only  sinner  in  the 


CECIL   DREEME.  305 

world,  nor  the  only  sufferer  from  the  taint  of 
sin. 

"  Densdeth  led  Denman  on,  step  by  step," 
continued  Towner,  "  deeper  and  deeper  into  his 
gigantic  financial  schemes.  You  know  how  vain 
Denman  is.  '  He  began  to  fancy  himself  Some 
body.  '  Bah ! '  said  Densdeth  to  me,  <  the 
booby  will  try  to  walk  alone  presently.  Then 
he  will  have  to  go  on  his  knees  to  me  to  keep 
him  up.'  And  so  it  was.  Denman  devised  an 
operation.  A  crisis  came.  Denman  delayed  ruin 
—  what  money-men  call  ruin  —  by  a  monstrous 
fraud.  We  had  expected  it,  and  we  alone  dis 
covered  it.  i  Now,'  said  Densdeth  to  me,  '  I 
have  got  the  man.'  '  What  more  do  you  want,' 
said  I,  i  than  you  have  already  gained  by  him  ?  ' 
4 1  want  his  daughter  Clara,'  he  said.  '  She  is 
the  most  brilliant  woman  in  the  world,  —  the 
only  fit  wife  for  me.  But  she  will  not  think 
so,  and  I  shall  have  to  use  force.  Force  is  vul 
gar.  I  don't  like  it ;  but  no  creature  shall  baffle 
me.' 

"  So,  to  be  brief,  Densdeth  said,  c  Denman, 
compel  your  daughter  to  marry  me,  or  you  go 
to  prison ! ' 

"  Denman  at  once  began  to  apply  a  father's 
force  to  the  young  lady.  As  he  urged  her  more 
and  more,  she  spoke  of  appealing  to  you,  Mr. 
Churm." 

T 


306  CECIL   DREEME. 

"  Poor  child  !  and  I  was  absent !  "  said  Cliurm. 

"  '  Ah  ! '  said  Densdeth,"  continued  the  sick 
man,  "  when  Denman  told  him  of  this.  c  Here 
is  business  for  Towner,  that  accomplished  pen 
man.  Now,  Towner  !  Letter  first  from  Mr. 
Churm,  in  London,  —  "  My  dear  Clara :  I  have 
heard  with  heartfelt  satisfaction  of  your  ap 
proaching  marriage  with  your  father's  friend 
and  mine,  Mr.  Densdeth,"  &c.  Letter  second, — 
"  My  dear  Clara :  It  gives  me  great  pain  to 
know  from  your  father  that  your  mind  is  not 
made  up  as  to  your  marriage.  It  is  impossible 
to  find  a  more  distinguished  or  worthier  gentle 
man  than  my  friend  Densdeth,  or  one  who  will 
make  you  happier.  Do  not  alienate  me  by  folly 
in  this  important  matter,"  &c.  Letter  third, — 
short,  sharp,  and  cruel,  —  "  Clara :  Your  conduct 
is  unwomanly  and  immodest.  Except  you  are 
my  friend  Densdeth's  wife,  I  shall  never  write  or 
speak  to  you  again." 

"  You  wrote  such  letters  !  "  cried  Churm,  sav 
agely,  rising  and  tramping  the  room. 

"  Cut  off  my  right  hand,"  said  the  wretched 
man,  holding  out  his  wasted,  trembling  fingers. 
"  It  wrote  and  prepared,  with  all  the  circum 
stance  of  seal  and  stamp,  those  base  forgeries." 

"  That  was  foul !  "  said  Locksley,  shrinking 
away. 

"  Don't  leave  me,  William,"  the  invalid  prayed, 


CECIL   DEEEME.  307 

feebly.  "  I  was  not  myself.  I  was  the  hand  of 
Densdeth.  Who  can  resist  him  ?  All  this  is  idle 
struggle.  He  will  conquer  us  again.  He  will 
clutch  me,  body  and  soul,  again,  and  drag  me 
down,  down,  down." 

He  burst  into  miserable  tears. 

Churm  strode  about  the  room,  with  a  patient 
impatient  step. 

"  I  have  tried  you,  Mr.  Churm,"  at  last  the 
guilty  man  was  able  to  gasp.  "  Can  you  be 
merciful  ?  " 

Churm's  face  was  as  an  angel's,  as  he  came 
forward,  and  laid  a  benignant  hand  on  Towner's 
shoulder.  "  In  the  name  of  God,  I  forgive  you. 
Yes,  and  I  pity  and  will  befriend  you  still." 

It  was  an  impressive  scene  in  my  antique 
chamber.  Churm  spoke  "like  one  having  au 
thority." 

The  invalid  grew  calmer,  and  presently  went 
on  with  his  story  again. 

"  Those  letters,  I  am  afraid,  broke  the  young 
lady's  heart.  Her  best  friend  had  joined  the 
enemy.  Her  father  pleaded,  no  doubt,  without 
concealment,  his  imminent  ruin.  A  daughter 
will  do  much  to  save  her  father  from  shame. 
They  forced  from  her  a  kind  of  qualified,  pro 
testing  consent  to  think  of  the  marriage  as  a 
possibility.  Then  they  treated  it  as  a  certainty. 
My  treachery  to  the  young  lady  soon  began  to 


308  CECIL   DREEME. 

gnaw  at  my  heart.  Consign  such  a  woman  to 
Densdeth  !  to  the  daily  agony  of  a  life  with  him  ! 
Little  as  I  knew  her,  I  felt  that  she  was  an 
exceptional  soul,  worthy  of  all  tender  loyalty 
from  all  men.  I  must  do  something  to  repair 
my  wrong  to  her.  I  must  at  least  inform  her 
of  the  forgeries.  I  was  too  weak-spirited  to  do 
it  myself.  I  called  in  a  woman  to  help  me. 

"  She  was  another  that  Densdeth  had  spoilt. 
She  hated  and  dreaded  him  as  much  as  I  did. 
She  naturally  resented  his  marriage  to  another 
woman.  I  sent  her  to  see  Clara  Denman.  Dens 
deth  found  it  out,  and  stopped  it.  He  finds  out 
everything,  sooner  or  later.  He  suspected  me 
of  an  attempt  to  revolt  from  his  dominion.  He 
suspected  me  of  instigating  the  young  woman 
to  show  herself  to  his  future  wife.  He  made 
me  stand  by  and  listen,  while,  in  his  cool,  cruel 
way,  he  sneered  the  poor  girl  into  utter  despair. 
She  went  off  and  drowned  herself." 

"  Ah !  "  cried  Churm,  "  it  was  she  whose  body 
was  found,  —  she,  and  not  my  dear  child." 

"  It  was  she,"  replied  Towner.  "  Nobody 
cared  for  her,  or  missed  her.  She  was  not 
unlike  Miss  Denman  in  person.  The  disappear 
ance  of  a  young  lady  of  fashion  had  made  a 
noise.  A  great  reward  was  offered.  Scores  of 
people  identified  the  body.  It  had  been  greatly 
injured  by  the  chances  of  drowning." 


CECIL  DREEME.  309 

"  Did  Denman  believe  it  to  be  his  daughter's? " 

"  Entirely.  It  was  the  easiest  solution.  And 
no  doubt  he  felt  more  at  peace  to  suppose  her 
dead  than  living,  and  likely  to  return  and  re 
proach  him  with  his  tyranny." 

"  And  Densdeth  ?  " 

"  He  did  at  first.  He  did  not  believe  that  any 
woman  could  have  eluded  the  strict  and  instant 
search  he  instituted  and  conducted  all  over  the 
country.  I  myself  cannot  believe  that  she  es 
caped  alive." 

"  Perhaps  Densdeth  searched  too  far  away 
from  home,"  said  Churm,  glancing  at  me. 

"  He  went  to  Europe  for  that  purpose.  When 
he  missed  the  real  drowned  woman,  he  came 
to  me,  and  charged  me  with  aiding  Miss  Den 
man  to  escape,  and  substituting  the  body.  He 
soon  discovered  that  I  knew  nothing  of  it. 
*  Towner,'  said  he,  '  I  am  convinced  that  Miss 
Denman,  my  future  wife,  is  alive.  She  fancies 
she  is  free  from  me.  Bah  !  Did  you  ever  know 
any  one  baffle  my  pursuit?  She  shall  not.  I 
want  her,  and  must  have  her,  —  beautiful,  un 
tamed  creature !  but  silly,  and  not  willing  to 
adore  me,  as  her  sex  does !  In  fact,  she  got 
idle  fancies  in  her  head  at  last,  and  was  really 
rude.  She  talked  about  abhorrence.  Abhor 
rence  of  me !  She  said  our  marriage  would  be 
an  infamy,  for  reasons  she  would  not  soil  her 


310  CECIL  DREEME. 

tongue  to  give.  She  actually  faced  me,  and 
said  that.  She  said  it,  facing  me,  looking  me 
straight  in  the  eyes,  not  sobbing  off  in  a  corner, 
as  most  women  would  have  done.  It  was 
splendid  !  Fine  tragedy !  and  real  too.  Nothing 
ever  entertained  me  so  much.  I  would  rather 
have  her  point  at  me,  and  call  me  villain,  than 
any  other  woman  fondle  me,  —  that  I  have  had 
enough  of.  0  yes,  she  is  alive,  and  I  must  have 
her.  What  a  fool  I  was  to  fancy  for  a  moment 
that  such  a  being  would  drown  herself,  or  be 
drowned  by  an  accident,  —  quite  unworthy  of 
my  intelligence,  such  a  belief!  I  have  a  clew 
now.  I  have  no  doubt  she  has  gone  off  to 
Europe,  disguised  as  a  man.  She  cannot  elude 
me  there.  There  or  here,  I  will  find  her.  I 
must  have  some  more  scenes  with  her.  I  should 
like  to  have  one  every  day.  Everything  bores 
me  now.  I  hunger  to  see  again  the  magnifi 
cent  scorn  with  which  she  repelled  me  when 
she  fancied  she  had  reason  to.  I  want  to  see 
that  loathing  recoil  from  my  touch.  Ah !  noth 
ing  like  it !  I  should  like  to  trample  on  her 
moral  sense  every  day.  If  I  could  only  sully 
her,  and  make  her  hate  herself  as  she  does  me, 
and  then  stand  by  to  watch  her  convulsions 
'of  self-contempt,  —  that  would  be  worth  living 
for.  Perhaps  I  can  manage  even  that.  Who 
knows  ?  But  I  must  get  her  in  hand  first.  My 


CECIL  DREEME.  311 

cue  of  course  is  that  she  is  mad.  The  simplest 
methods  are  the  best.  Let  me  once  have  her 
in  some  uninquisitive  madhouse,  like  Huffmire's 
here  at  Bushley,  and  something  can  be  done. 
At  least  I  can  put  her  in  a  straight-jacket,  and 
see  her  chafe,  or  sit,  too  proud  to  chafe,  facing  her 
fate  with  those  great  eyes,  solemn  and  passion 
ate.  Denman  will  back  me  in  whatever  I  do. 
If  it  gives  you  any  satisfaction,  Towner,  to  know 
that  there  is  a  wretcheder  scrub  than  you,  Den 
man  is  the  man.  I  love  to  joke  him  about 
the  State's  prison,  and  make  him  grovel  and 
implore.  He  is  delightfully  base.  He  will  swear 
his  daughter  into  a  madhouse,  and  keep  her 
there  half  a  century,  if  I  will  only  let  him  live 
in  his  house,  and  be  pointed  at  as  the  great 
Denman.  Pah!'" 

Towner  sank  back  in  his  chair,  exhausted.  It 
had  cost  him  a  giant  effort  to  be  free  from  his 
ancient  allegiance  to  his  fiend. 

We  three  sat  silent  a  moment,  appalled  by 
the  depth  of  evil  revealed  to  us  in  one  human 
heart. 

In  this  pause  all  the  events  and  scenes  of 
my  life  in  Chrysalis  drifted  across  my  mind, 
and  all  my  history  for  the  past  three  months, 
culminating  in  last  night's  horror  and  to-day's 
agony,  passed  before  me.  Again  I  saw,  as  in 
a  picture,  Emma  Denman  standing,  a  slight, 


312  CECIL  DREEME. 

elegant  figure  in  mourning,  in  the  dimly  lighted 
hall  of  the  stately  house.  Again  I  marked  on 
her  pale  face  the  deepening  look  of  despair  and 
pitiless  self-abhorrence.  Again  I  felt  the  blight 
ing  touch  of  her  cold  hand.  Again  there  smote 
me  the  same  throb  of  anguish  I  had  perceived 
when  I  entered  Cecil  Dreeme's  chamber  and 
found  him  fled. 

And  Densdeth  was  in  all  this.  The  thought 
cowed  me.  I  was  ready  to  say,  with  Towner, 
"  Why  struggle  vainly  any  more  with  this  de 
mon  ?  " 

Even  as  I  uttered  this  hopeless  cry  within 
my  soul,  there  came  a  quick  step  along  the 
corridor,  and  a  knock  at  my  door. 


CHAPTER    XXVII. 

EALEIGH'S  KEVOLT. 

AT  this  sound  Towner  half  raised  himself  from 
the  arm-chair,  where  he  sat,  cowering.  "  Don't 
let  him  in  !  Don't  let  anybody  in  !  "  he  breathed, 
in  an  alarmed  whisper. 

The  knock  was  repeated  urgently.  I  stepped 
to  the  door  and  opened  it  a  crack.  Raleigh  was 
without,  —  the  man  about  town,  of  noble  instincts 
and  unworthy  courses,  who  has  already  passed 
across  these  pages. 

"  Pray,  drop  in  again,  Raleigh,"  said  I ;  "  I 
have  some  people  here  on  business." 

"  I  must  see  you  now.  It  may  be  life  and 
death." 

"  To  whom  ?  "  I  asked,  eagerly.  He  too  had 
been  a  friend  of  Densdeth's.  He  might  have 
knowledge  of  these  mysteries. 

"  To  one  worth  saving." 

I  observed  him  more  particularly.  All  his 
usual  nonchalance  had  departed.  He  was  pale 
and  anxious  ;  but  withal,  his  face  expressed  his 
better  self,  the  nobler  man  I  had  always  recog 
nized  in  him. 

14 


814  CECIL   DREEME. 

"  What  is  it  ?  "  said  I,  stepping  out  into  the 
corridor. 

"  Not  here  !  "  said  Raleigh  in  a  whisper.  And 
he  pointed  to  the  door  of  Densdeth's  dark  room. 

"  What  ?  "  I  also  whispered,  with  an  irrepres 
sible  dread  stealing  over  me,  "  Densdeth  again  !  " 

"  Come  in  then,"  I  continued ;  "  we  are  al 
ready  trying  and  condemning  him." 

"Who  are  these?"  said  Raleigh,  bowing  slightly 
to  Churin,  and  pointing  to  Locksley  and  Towner. 
The  latter  sat  with  his  face  covered  by  his  hands. 

"  Foes  of  Densdeth,  both  !     Sufferers  by  him !  " 

"  Mr.  Churm,"  said  Raleigh,  "  I  know  you  do 
not  trust  me  much.  But  I  came  here  to  find 
you  and  Byng.  Meeting  you  saves  precious  time. 
I  have  wasted  hours  already,  struggling  in  my 
heart  to  throw  off  the  base  empire  of  Densdeth. 
I  have  done  it.  I  am  free  of  him  forever.  I 
can  speak.  I  have  seen  your  ward,  Clara  Den- 
man  !  " 

"  Speak  !  speak  !  "  cried  Churm,  seizing  his 
arm. 

"  Alive,  and  in  danger !  I  was  riding  home 
this  morning  before  dawn,  from  Bushley,  —  never 
mind  on  what  unworthy  errand  I  had  been. 
Going  down  a  hill,  my  horse  slipped  on  the  ice, 
and  fell  badly.  I  was  getting  him  on  his  legs 
again,  when  a  carriage  came  slowly  climbing  up 
the  slope  beside  me.  You  know  what  a  night  it 


CECIL   DREEME.  315 

was,  —  stormy,  with  bursts  of  moonlight.  There 
was  light  enough  to  give  me  a  view  of  the  people 
in  the  carriage.  Two  women,  one  a  hag  I  well 
know,  the  other  veiled.  Two  men,  Densdeth 
and  that  black  rascal,  his  servant.  I  knew  them. 
They  could  not  recognize  me  kneeling  behind 
my  horse.  '  Mischief ! '  I  thought.  It  was  none 
of  my  business,  but  I  got  my  horse  iip,  and  fol 
lowed.  Do  you  know  Huffmire's  Asylum  ?  " 

"  Locksley  !  "  said  Churm,  "  quick !  Run  to 
my  stable,  and  have  the  bays  put  to  the  double 
wagon  !  Quick,  now  !  Have  them  here  in  five 
minutes !  " 

Locksley  hurried  off. 

"Right!"  said  Raleigh,  "you  understand  me. 
Yes,  Densdeth  had  Clara  Denman  in  that  car 
riage." 

"  My  poor  child !  "  said  Churm.  "  Her  inno 
cent  life  bears  all  the  burden  of  others'  sins." 

"  I  rode  after  the  carriage  until  I  saw  it  stop 
at  Huffmire's  gate.  Then  I  dismounted,  let  my 
horse  go,  and  ran  up  in  the  shelter  of  some  cedars 
by  the  road-side.  I  knew  that  Huffmire's  Insane 
Asylum  is  no  better  than  a  private  prison  foi 
whoever  dares  to  use  it.  No  one  was  stirring  at 
that  early  hour,  and  it  was  some  time  before  the 
bell  was  answered.  At  last,  Huffmire  himself 
came  to  the  gate.  Densdeth  got  out  to  parley 
with  him.  While  they  talked,  the  veiled  lady 


316  CECIL   DREEME. 

managed,  by  a  rapid  movement  with  her  tied 
hands,  to  strike  aside  her  veil  and  look  out.  I 
saw  her.  I  cannot  be  deceived.  It  was  Clara 
Denman !  " 

"  Is  Locksley  never  coming  with  those  horses  ?  " 
muttered  Churm. 

"  It  was  she,  strangely  dressed,  altered,  and 
pale,  but  firm  and  resolute  as  ever.  I  had  but 
a  glimpse.  The  hag  and  Densdeth's  servant 
dragged  her  back.  Huffmire  undid  the  gate. 
They  drove  in.  I  caught  my  horse  and  rode 
off." 

u  Why  did  you  not  tear  her  away  from  that 
villain  ?  "  said  Churm,  fiercely. 

"  Mr.  Churm,  hear  me  through  !  I  said  to 
myself,  '  This  is  none  of  my  business.  Clara 
Denman,  whom  the  world  thought  dead,  has 
come  to  light,  mad,  and  Densdeth,  the  friend  of 
the  family,  her  betrothed,  has  very  naturally 
been  selected  to  put  her  into  a  madhouse.' ' 

"  But  the  hour,  the  place  !     And  Densdeth !  " 

"  Yes ;  these  excited  my  suspicions.  I  remem 
bered  the  impression  that  Miss  Denman  had 
committed  suicide  rather  than  be  forced  into  a 
marriage  with  Densdeth.  Intimate  as  I  have 
been  with  him,  I  can  comprehend  how  to  a 
nature  like  hers  he  would  be  a  horror." 

"  But,"  said  I,  "  this  seems  almost  incredi 
ble,  this  audacious  abduction  of  a  young  lady." 


CECIL  DREEME.  317 

"  Densdetli  knew  that  she  had  no  friends,"  said 
Churm,  bitterly.  "  He  knew  that  the  manner 
and  place  of  her  hiding  would  favor  his  charge." 

"  It  is  audacious,"  said  Raleigh,  "  and  so  is 
Densdetli.  Success  has  made  the  man  overween 
ing.  If  it  is  true  that  Clara  Denman  baffled  him 
for  a  time,  I  believe  she  is  the  only  one,  woman 
or  man,  who  has  done  so,  when  he  had  fairly 
tried  to  conquer.  Who  knows  but  he  feels  that, 
once  beaten,  his  prestige  to  himself  is  gone  ?  He 
no  doubt  considers  himself  safe  against  Denman, 
and  supposes,  too,  that  the  lady's  flight  and  con 
cealment  have  put  her  out  of  the  pale  of  society." 

"  But  what  does  he  intend?"  said  I,  looking  at 
them  both  by  turns. 

"  Will  Locksley  never  come  ? "  said  Churm, 
striding  to  the  window.  "Towner  has  told  us 
what  he  intends." 

"  Basely,  I  fear,"  replied  Raleigh.  "  At  least 
to  compel  her  to  a  hateful  marriage,  if  no  worse. 
At  least  to  have  her  where  he  can  insult  and 
scoff  at  her,  and  beat  down  her  resistance.  He 
means  to  master  her,  soul  and  body,  and  take 
some  cruel  revenge,  such  as  only  a  fiend  could 
devise." 

"  Your  eyes  seem  to  be  opened,  Mr.  Raleigh," 
said  Churm,  "  to  the  character  of  your  bosom 
friend." 

"  They  are  opened,  thank  God !     It  has  cost 


318  CECIL  DREEME. 

me  a  great  and  bitter  struggle,  this  day,  to  tear 
that  man  out  of  my  heart,  to  overcome  my  pride 
and  inertia,  and  come  and  tell  you,  Mr.  Churm, 
that  I  miserably  despise  myself;  yes,  and  to  say 
that  I  need  the  help  and  countenance  of  men 
like  you  to  aid  me  to  be  a  true  man  again,  —  to 
abandon  Densdeth,  and  set  myself  forever  against 
him  and  all  his  kind." 

"  Is  that  your  purpose  ?  My  poor  help  you 
shall  have,"  said  Churm. 

"  Yes ;  I  have  been  all  day  resisting  my  im 
pulse  to  come  and  betray  the  man,  —  if  this  is 
treachery.  But  the  remembrance  of  Miss  Den- 
man's  pale  face,  as  she  looked  friendlessly  out  of 
the  carriage,  has  been  shaming  me  all  day,  com 
manding  me  to  break  my  fealty  to  sin,  and  obey 
my  manly  nature,  —  what  there  is  left  of  it.  I 
have  obeyed  at  last." 

"  You  have  done  well  and  honorably,  Mr. 
Raleigh,"  said  Churm,  grasping  his  hand. 

"  Yes,"  said  I,  "  Raleigh,  I  knew  it  was  in 
you,  and  would  come  out." 

"  Thank  you,  Byng.  Thank  you,  Mr.  Churm," 
said  he,  gravely.  "  And  now  to  help  the  lady  ! 
What  are  you  going  to  do  ?  " 

"  I  am  going  to  drive  straight  to  Huffmire's, 
and  demand  her." 

"  Will  he  give  her  up  without  legal  proceed- 
ings?" 


CECIL  DREEME.  319 

"  Probably  not.  I  must  take  them,  in  time. 
I  am  convinced  that  Denrnan  does  not  know  of 
this.  He  still  believes  his  daughter  dead.  But 
he  would  act  with  Densdeth.  I  mean  to-day  to 
let  Huffmire  know  that  the  lady  has  friends,  who 
are  not  to  be  trifled  with,  and  that  he  is  held 
responsible  for  her  safety.  Perhaps  I  shall  set 
Byng  sentinel  over  the  house,  to  see  that  she  is 
not  spirited  away  again." 

"  Are  we  to  be  rough  or  smooth  ? "  said  I. 
"  Do  we  want  arms  ?  " 

And  I  glanced  toward  the  table,  where,  at 
Towner's  elbow,  lay  a  long,  keen,  antique  dag 
ger,  out  of  Stillfleet's  collection.  Its  present 
peaceful  use  was  to  cut  the  leaves  of  novels,  or 
the  paper  edges  of  a  cigar-box. 

"  No  arms !  "  said  Churin,  following  my  eye. 
"  We  might  meet  a  wrong-doer,  and  be  tempted 
to  anticipate  the  vengeance  of  God." 

I  had  forgotten,  and  did  forget,  in  this  excite 
ment,  to  ask  Towner  what  use  Densdeth  made 
of  his  dark  room. 


CHAPTER    XXVIII. 

DENSDETH'S  FAKE  WELL. 

"  THE  carriage  is  here,"  said  Locksley,  at  the 
door.  What  with  indignation  at  Densdeth,  the 
janitor  had  got  far  beyond  his  usual  bristly  por 
cupine  condition.  He  presented  a  spiky  aspect. 
I  hope  no  boy  of  the  Chrysalids  tried  a  tussle 
with  him  that  day. 

"  Will  you  allow  me  to  join  your  party  ?  " 
Raleigh  asked.  "  I  may  make  myself  of  use." 

"  Certainly.  Well,  Towner,  we  leave  you  with 
friend  Locksley.  But,  man  !  "  continued  Churm, 
in  surprise,  "  what  have  you  been  doing  to  your 
self?" 

Well  he  might  be  astonished  !  Towner  had 
risen,  and  was  standing  erect  and  vigorous.  His 
manner  was  eager,  almost  to  wildness.  His  lit 
tle,  unmeaning  eyes  were  open  wide,  as  if  he 
saw  something  that  made  him  young  and  un- 
wrinkled  again.  There  was  a  hot,  hectic  spot  in 
his  cheek,  just  now  mere  pale  parchment. 

"  Embers  ablaze  at  last !  "  thought  I.  "  The 
man  has  struck  a  blow  for  freedom,  and  now  he 


CECIL  DREEME.  321 

begins  to  hunger  for  vengeance.  He  has  shaken 
off  Densdeth ;  he  looks  as  if  he  could  turn  and 
tear  him." 

"  I  should  like  to  go  with  you,  Mr.  Churm,  if 
you  please,"  said  Towner.  "  The  drive  will  do 
rne  good.  Huffmire  knows  me.  He  might  open 
his  doors  to  me,  as  Densdeth's  friend,  when  he 
would  exclude  you." 

"  Very  well,"  said  Churm  ;  "  come,  if  you  feel 
strong  enough.  But  you  must  let  Locksley  fit 
you  out  with  clothes." 

Towner  hurried  off  with  the  janitor.  He  had 
skulked  into  my  room,  at  the  beginning  of  the 
interview,  like  a  condemned  spy ;  he  moved 
away  like  a  brave  and  a  victor. 

"  I  take  him,"  said  Churm,  u  because  I  doubt 
his  resolution.  The  old  allegiance  might  prove 
too  strong.  He  might  confess  to  Densdeth  that 
he  had  confessed  to  us.  That  would  baffle  us. 
We  must  not  lose  sight  of  him." 

"  Churm,"  said  I,  "  I  go  with  you,  of  course, 
through  thick  and  thin.  But  Cecil  Dreeme,  —  I 
feel  that  my  first  duty  is  to  seek  and  succor  him. 
I  long  to  aid  the  young  lady.  But  she  is  a  stran 
ger,  and  has  you.  Dreeme  is  part  of  my  heart, 
and  has  no  one." 

"  Patience,  Robert !  One  thing  at  a  time.  Let 
us  but  run  Densdeth  to  earth,  and  I  dare  promise 
you  will  find  your  friend.  You  for  yours,  and  I 


322  CECIL  DREEME. 

for  mine,  and  both  against  the  common  foe,  we 
must  prevail.  If  I  doubted  one  moment  of  my 
child's  safety,  I  should  not  be  searching  for  her 
now,  but  chasing  him." 

"  Not  to  impose  upon  him  the  mild  sentence 
you  spoke  of  long  ago  ?  Not  to  condemn  him  to 
bless  as  many  lives  as  he  has  cursed  ?  " 

"  I  fear  it  is  too  late  for  such  gentle  treatment. 
Do  you  suppose,  Towner,  a  life  so  cursed  as  his 
will  be  contented  with  that  indirect  application 
of  the  lex  talionis  ?  No ;  Densdeth  must  be 
stopped  and  punished." 

The  boys  of  Chrysalis,  the  College,  were  swarm 
ing  in  the  corridor  and  upon  the  staircase  under 
the  plaster  fan-tracery  as  we  passed.  Little 
enough  of  the  honey  of  learning  had  they  sucked 
from  their  mullein-stalk  of  a  professor  that  day, 
and  they  buzzed  indignantly  or  bumbled  surlily 
about.  Far  different  was  the  kind  of  education 
and  discipline  I  was  getting  in  the  same  cloisters. 
The  great  book  of  sin  and  sorrow,  that  time- 
worn,  tear-marked,  blood-stained  volume,  had 
been  opened  to  me  here,  and  I  was  reading  it 
by  the  light  of  my  own  experience.  And  as  I 
read,  I  felt  that  there  were  pages  awaiting  my 
record,  —  pages  that  I  could  already  fill,  and 
others  that  the  future  would  sternly  teach  me 
to  fill,  before  my  story  ended. 

At  the  great  western  door  we  found  Churm's 


CECIL   DREEME.  323 

drag,  with  the  bays.  Towner  came  out,  muffled 
in  an  old  blue  camlet  cloak,  —  a  garment  that 
the  moths  had  disdained  for  a  score  of  years,  when 
in  Locksley's  prosperity  they  had  choice  pas 
turage  of  broadcloth  to  graze  over.  This  queer 
figure  and  the  elegant  Raleigh  took  the  back 
seat.  Churm  and  I  were  on  the  box. 

Churm's  bays  are  not  known  to  the  Racing 
Calendar ;  but  there  are  teams  of  renown  that 
always  pull  up  on  the  road,  when  they  hear  the 
accurate  cadence  of  their  coming  hoofs,  and 
recognize  Churm's  peculiar  whistle  as  he  signals, 
"  More  seconds  out  of  that  mile  !  "  We  drove 
fast  through  town  to  the  nearest  ferry,  crossed, 
and  presently,  off  the  stones  across  the  water, 
bowled  along  the  Bushley  turnpike,  as  merrily  as 
if  we  were  on  our  way  to  a  country  wedding  fes 
tival.  .  Little  was  said.  We  knew  the  past,  and 
that  was  too  painful  to  talk  of.  We  did  not 
know  the  future,  and  could  not  interpret  its 
omens. 

From  time  to  time  I  turned  to  glance  at 
Towner.  He  sat  erect  and  alert,  with  cheeks 
burning  and  eyes  aflame.  The  inner  fire  had 
kindled  up  his  manhood  again.  "  I  would  not 
give  much  for  Densdeth's  life,"  thought  I,  "  if 
his  late  serf  should  meet  him  now.  The  man 
is  capable  of  one  spasm  of  vengeance.  He 
looks,  with  his  twitching  face  and  uneasy  fin- 


324  CECIL   DREEME. 

gers,  as  if  he  could  rend  the  being  that  has 
debased  him,  and  then  die." 

So  we  drove  on,  mile  after  mile,  in  the  chilly 
March  afternoon,  and  at  last  pulled  up  at  a 
door,  in  a  white  stuccoed  wall,  —  a  whited  wall, 
edging  the  road  like  a  bank  of  stale  snow. 
Within  we  could  see  an  ugly,  dismal  house, 
equally  stuccoed'  white,  peering  suspiciously  at 
us  over  the  top  of  the  enclosure,  from  its  sin 
ister  grated  windows  of  the  upper  story. 

A  boy  was  walking  up  and  down  the  road 
at  a  little  distance  a  fine  black  horse,  all  in 
a  lather  with  hard  riding,  and  cut  with  the 
spurs.  The  animal  plunged  about  furiously, 
almost  dragging  the  lad  off  his  feet. 

"  You  will  see  Huffmire,  Towner,"  said  Churm, 
"  and  tell  him  that  I  want  to  talk  with  him." 

"  Yes,"  cried  Towner,  eagerly,  "  let  me  man 
age  it!" 

He  shook  off  his  cloak,  sprang  down  with 
energetic  step,  and  rang  the  bell.  A  man  looked 
through  a  small  shutter  in  the  door,  and  asked 
his  business,  gruffly  enough. 

"  Tell  Dr.  Huffmire  that  Mr.  Towner  wishes 
to  see  him." 

The  porter  presently  returned,  and  said  that 
Dr.  Huffmire  would  see  the  gentleman,  alone. 

"  Huffmire  will  know  my  name.  Send  him 
out  here  to  me,  Towner,  if  he  will  come ;  if 


CECIL   DEEEME.  325 

not,  do  you  make  the  necessary  inquiries,"  said 
Clmrm. 

Towner  passed  in.  The  porter  closed  the 
outer  door  upon  him,  and  then  looked  through 
the  shutter  at  us,  with  a  truculent  stare,  as  if 
he  were  accustomed  to  inquisitive  visitors,  and 
liked  to  baffle  them.  He  had  but  one  eye,  and 
his  effect,  as  he  grinned  through  the  square  port 
hole  in  the  gate,  was  singularly  Cyclopean  and 
ogre-ish.  He  probably  regarded  men  merely  as 
food,  sooner  or  later,  for  insane  asylums,  —  as 
morsels  to  be  quietly  swallowed  or  forcibly  choked 
down  by  the  jaws  of  Retreats. 

"What!"  whispered  Raleigh  to  me,  as  the 
boy  led  the  snorting  and  curvetting  black  horse 
by  us.  "  That  fellow  at  the  eye-hole  magnet 
ized  me  at  first.  I  did  not  notice  that  horse. 
Do  you  know  it  ?  " 

"  No,"  said  I.  "  I  have  never  seen  him.  A 
splendid  fellow  !  His  rider  must  have  been  in 
hot  haste  to  get  here.  Perhaps  some  errand 
like  our  own  !  " 

"  Densdeth,"  again  whispered  Raleigh,  "  Dens- 
deth  told  me  he  had  been  looking  at  a  new  black 
horse." 

We  glanced  at  each  other.  All  felt  that  Dens- 
deth's  appearance  here,  at  this  moment,  might 
be  harmful.  Churm's  name  brought  Huffmire 
speedily  to  the  door.  Clmrm,  the  philanthropist, 


326  CECIL   DREEME. 

was  too  powerful  a  man  to  offend.  Huifmire 
opened  the  door,  and  stood  just  within,  defend 
ing  the  entrance.  He  was  a  large  man,  with 
a  large  face,  —  large  in  every  feature,  and  ex 
aggerated  where  for  proportion  it  should  have 
been  small.  He  suffered  under  a  general  rush 
of  coarseness  to  the  face.  He  had  a  rush  of 
lymphatic  puffiness  to  the  cheeks,  a  rush  of 
blubber  to  the  lips,  a  rush  of  gristle  to  his 
clumsy  nose,  a  rush  of  lappel  to  the  ears, 
a  rush  of  dewlap  to  the  throat.  A  disgusting 
person,  —  the  very  type  of  man  for  a  vulgar 
tyrant.  His  straight  black  hair  was  brushed 
back  and  combed  behind  the  ears.  He  was 
in  the  sheep's  clothing  of  a  deacon. 

"  You  have  a  young  lady  here,  lately  arrived  ?  " 
said  Churm,  bowing  slightly,  in  return  to  the 
other's  cringing  reverence. 

"  I  have  several,  sir.  Neither  youth  nor  beau 
ty  is  exempt,  alas !  from  the  dreadful  curse  of 
insanity,  which  I  devote  myself,  in  my  hum 
ble  way,  to  eradicate.  To  e-rad-i-cate,"  he  re 
peated,  dwelling  on  the  syllables  of  his  word, 
as  if  he  were  tugging,  with  brute  force,  at  some 
thing  that  came  up  hard,  —  as  if  madness  were 
a  stump,  and  he  were  a  cogwheel  machine  ex 
tracting  it. 

"  I  wish  to  know,"  said  Churm,  in  his  briefest 
and  sternest  manner,  "  if  a  young  lady  named 
Denman  was  brought  here  yesterday." 


CECIL  DREEME.  327 

"  Denman,  sir  !  No  sir.  I  am  happy  to  be 
able  to  state  to  you,  sir,  that  there  is  no  un 
fortunate  of  that  name  among  my  patients, — 
no  one  of  that  name,  —  I  rejoice  to  satisfy  you." 

"  I  suppose  you  know  who  I  am,"  said  Churm. 
I  saw  his  fingers  clutch  his  whip-handle. 

A  rush  of  oiliness  seemed  to  suffuse  the  man's 
coarse  face.  "  It  is  the  well-known  Mr.  Churm," 
said  he.  "  The  fame  of  his  benevolence  is  co 
extensive  with  our  country,  sir.  Who  does  not 
love  him  ?  —  the  friend  of  the  widow  and  the 
orphan !  I  am  proud,  sir,  to  make  your  ac 
quaintance.  This  is  a  privilege,  indeed,  —  indeed, 
a  most  in-es-ti-ma-ble  pri-vile-age." 

"  Do  you  think  me  a  safe  man  to  lie  to  ?  "  said 
Churm,  abruptly. 

"  I  confess  that  I  do  not  take  your  meaning, 
sir,"  said  Huffmire,  in  the  same  soft  manner,  but 
stepping  back  a  little. 

"  Do  you  think  it  safe  to  lie  to  me  ?  " 

"  I,  sir  !  lie,  sir  !  "  stammered  Huffmire.  The 
oiliness  seemed  to  coagulate  in  his  muddy  skin, 
and  with  his  alarm  his  complexion  took  the  tex 
ture  and  color  of  soggy  leather. 

"  Yes  ;  the  lady  is  here.     I  wish  to  see  her." 

As  Churm  was  silent,  looking  sternly  at  the 
pretended  doctor,  there  rose  suddenly  within  the 
building  .a  strange  and  horrible  cry. 

A  strange  and  horrible  cry  !     Two  voices  min- 


328  CECIL   DEEEME. 

gled  in  its  discord.  One  was  a  well-known 
mocking  tone,  now  smitten  with  despair ;  and 
yet  the  change  that  gave  it  its  horror  was  so 
slight,  that  I  doubted  if  the  old  mockery  had  not 
all  the  while  been  despair,  suppressed  and  dis 
guised.  The  other  voice,  mingling  with  this, 
rising  with  it  up  into  silence  that  grew  stiller  as 
they  climbed,  and  then,  disentangling  itself,  over 
topping  its  companion,  and  beating  it  slowly  down 
until  it  had  ceased  to  be,  —  this  other  voice  was 
like  the  exulting  cry  of  one  defeated  and  tram 
pled  under  foot,  who  yet  has  saved  a  stab  for  his 
victor. 

They  had  met  —  Towner  and  Densdeth  ! 

We  three  sprang  from  the  carriage,  thrust 
aside  the  Doctor,  and,  following  our  memories  of 
the  dead  sound  for  a  clew,  ran  across  the  court 
and  through  a  half-open  door  into  the  hall  of  the 
Asylum. 

All  was  still  within.  The  air  was  thick  with 
the  curdling  horror  that  had  poured  into  it.  We 
paused  an  instant  to  listen. 

A  little  muffled  moan  crept  feebly  forth  from  a 
room  on  the  left.  It  hardly  reached  us,  so  faint 
it  was.  It  crept  forth,  and  seemed  to  perish  at 
our  feet,  like  a  hopeless  suppliant.  We  entered 
the  room.  It  was  a  shabby  parlor,  meanly  fur 
nished.  The  stained  old  paper  on  the  walls  was 
covered  with  Arcadian  groups  of  youths  and 


CECIL  DREEME.  329 

maidens,  dancing  to  the  sound  of  a  pipe  played 
by  a  shepherd,  who  sat  upon  a  broken  column 
under  a  palm.  On  the  floor  was  a  tawdry  carpet, 
all  beflowered  and  befruited,  —  such  a  meretri 
cious  blur  of  colors  as  a  hotel  offers  for  vulgar 
feet  to  tread  upon.  So  much  I  now  perceive 
that  I  marked  in  that  mean  reception-room.  But 
I  did  not  note  it  then. 

For  there,  among  the  tawdry  flowers  of  the 
carpet,  lay  Densdeth,  —  dead,  or  dying  of  a 
deadly  wound.  The  long,  keen,  antique  dagger 
I  had  noticed  lying  peacefully  on  my  table  was 
upon  the  floor.  Its  office  had  found  it  at  last, 
and  the  signet  of  a  new  blood-stain  was  stamped 
upon  its  blade,  among  tokens  of  an  old  habit  of 
murder,  latent  for  ages. 

Beside  the  wounded  man  sat  Towner.  His 
spasm  was  over.  The  freed  serf  had  slain  his 
tyrant.  All  his  life  had  been  crowded  into  that 
one  moment  of  frenzy.  He  sat  pale  and  droop 
ing,  and  there  was  a  desolate  sorrow  in  his  face, 
as  if  his  hate  for  his  master  had  been  as  needful 
to  him  as  a  love. 

"  I  could  not  help  it,"  said  Towner,  in  a  dreary 
whisper.  "  He  came  to  me  while  I  was  waiting 
here.  He  told  Huffmire  to  send  you  off,  and 
leave  me  to  him.  And  then  he  stood  over  me, 
and  told  me,  with  his  old  sneer,  that  I  belonged  to 
him,  body  and  soul.  He  said  I  must  obey  him. 


330  CECIL   DREEME. 

He  said  he  had  work  for  me  now, — just  such 
mean  villany  as  I  was  made  for.  I  felt  that  in 
another  instant  I  should  be  his  again.  I  only 
made  one  spring  at  him.  How  came  I  by  that 
dagger  ?  I  never  saw  it  until  I  found  it  in  my 
hand,  at  his  heart.  Is  he  dead  ?  No.  I  am 
dying.  Shall  I  be  safe  from  him  hereafter  ?  I 
have  n't  had  a  fair  chance  in  this  world.  What 
could  a  man  do  better  —  born  in  a  jail  ?  " 

Towner  drooped  slowly  down  as  he  spoke. 
He  ended,  and  his  defeated  life  passed  away  from 
that  worn-out  body,  the  comrade  of  its  igno 
miny. 

I  raised  Densdeth's  head.  The  strange  fasci 
nation  of  his  face  became  doubly  subtle,  as  he 
seemed  still  to  gaze  at  me  with  closed  eyelids, 
like  a  statue's.  I  felt  that,  if  those  cold  feline 
eyes  should  open  and  again  turn  their  inquisition 
inward  upon  my  soul,  devilish  passions  would 
quicken  there  anew.  I  shuddered  to  perceive 
the  lurking  devil  in  me,  slumbering  lightly,  and 
ready  to  stir  whenever  he  knew  a  comrade  was 
near. 

"  Spare  me,  Densdeth  ! "  I  rather  thought  than 
spoke ;  but  with  the  thought  an  effluence  must 
have  passed  from  me  to  him. 

His  eyes  opened.  The  look  of  treachery  and 
triumph  was  gone.  He  murmured  something. 
What  we  could  not  hear.  But  all  the  mockery 


CECIL   DREEME.  331 

of  his  voice  had  departed  when  in  that  dying 
scream  it  avowed  itself  despair.  The  tones  we 
caught  were  sweet  and  childlike. 

"With  this  effort  blood  gushed  again  from  his 
murderous  wound.  He,  too,  drooped  away  and 
died.  The  soul  that  had  had  no  other  view  of 
brother  men  than  through  the  eyes  of  a  beast 
of  prey,  fled  away  to  find  its  new  tenement. 
His  face  settled  into  marble  calm  and  beauty.  I 
parted  the  black  hair  from  his  forehead. 

There  was  the  man  whom  I  should  have  loved 
if  I  had  not  hated,  dead  at  last,  with  this  vulgar 
death.  Only  a  single  stab  from  another,  and  my 
warfare  with  him  was  done.  I  felt  a  strange 
sense  of  indolence  overcome  me.  Was  my  busi 
ness  in  life  over,  now  that  I  had  no  longer  to 
struggle  with  him  daily  ?  Had  he  strengthened 
me  ?  Had  he  weakened  me  ?  Should  I  have 
prevailed  against  him,  or  would  he  have  finally 
mastered  me,  if  this  chance,  this  Providence,  of 
death  had  not  come  between  us? 

I  looked  up,  and  found  Churm  studying  the 
dead  man. 

"  Can  it  be  ?  "  said  I,  "  that  a  soul  perilous  to 
all  truth  and  purity,  a  merciless  tempter,  a  being 
who  to  every  pther  man  was  the  personification 
of  that  man's  own  worst  ideal  of  himself,  —  can 
it  be  that  such  an  unrestful  spirit  has  dwelt 
within  this  quiet  form  ?  What  was  he  ?  For 


832  CECIL   DREEME. 

what  purpose  enters  such  a  disturbing  force  into 

the  orderly  world  of  God  ?  " 

"  That  is  the  ancient  mystery,"  said  Churm, 

solemnly. 

"  Can  it  never  be  solved  in  this  world  ?  " 

"  It  is  not  yet  solved  to  you  ?     Then  you  must 

wait  for  years  of  deeper  thought,  or  some  moment 

of  more  fiery  trial." 


CHAPTER    XXIX. 

DREEME  HIS  OWN  INTERPRETER. 

WE  left  the  dead,  dead. 

"  Where  is  Huffmire  ?  "  Churm  asked. 

A  sound  of  galloping  hoofs  answered.  We 
saw  him  from  the  window,  flying  on  Densdeth's 
horse.  Death  in  his  house  by  violence  meant 
investigation,  and  that  he  did  not  dare  encounter. 
He  was  off,  and  so  escaped  justice  for  a  time. 

The  villanous-lookihg  porter  came  cringing  up 
to  Churm. 

"  You  was  asking  about  a  lady,"  said  he. 

"  Yes.     What  of  her  ?  " 

"  With  a  pale  face,  large  eyes,  and  short,  crisp 
black  hair,  what  that  dead  man  brought  here  at 
daybreak  yesterday  ?  " 

"  The  same." 

"  Murdoch 's  got  her  locked  up  and  tied." 

"  Murdoch ! "  cried  Raleigh.  "  That 's  the  hell 
cat  I  saw  in  the  carriage." 

"  Quick,"  said  Churm,  "  take  us  there !  " 

I  picked  up  my  dagger,  and  wiped  off  the 
blood ;  but  the  new  stain  had  thickened  the 
ancient  rust. 


334  CECIL   DREEME. 

The  porter  led  the  way  up-stairs,  and  knocked 
at  a  closed  door. 

"  Who  is  there  ?  "  said  a  voice. 

"  Me,  Patrick,  the  porter.     Open  !  " 

"  What  do  you  want  ?  " 

"  To  come  in." 

"  Go  about  your  business !  " 

"  I  will,"  said  the  man,  turning  to  us,  with  a 
grin.  He  felt  that  we  were  the  persons  to  be 
propitiated.  He  put  his  knee  against  the  door, 
and,  after  a  struggle  and  a  thrust,  the  bolt  gave 
way. 

A  large,  gipsy-like  woman  stood  holding  back 
the  door.  We  pushed  her  aside,  and  sprang  in. 

"  Cecil  Dreeme !  "  I  cried.   "  God  be  thanked !  " 

And  there,  indeed,  was  my  friend.  He  was 
sitting  bound  in  a  great  chair,  —  bound  and 
helpless,  but  still  steady  and  self-possessed.  He 
was  covered  with  some  confining  drapery. 

He  gave  an  eager  cry  as  he  saw  me. 

I  leaped  forward  and  cut  him  free  with  my 
dagger.  Better  business  for  the  blade  than  mur 
der  ! 

He  rose  and  clung  to  me,  with  a  womanish 
gesture,  weeping  on  my  shoulder. 

"  My  child  !  "  cried  Churm,  shaking  off  the 
Murdoch  creature,  and  leaving  her  to  claw  the 
porter. 

I  felt  a  strange  thrill  and  a  new  suspicion  go 


CECIL   DREEME.  335 

tingling  through  me  as  I  heard  these  words. 
How  blind  I  had  been  ! 

Cecil  Dreeme  still  clung  to  me,  and  murmured, 
"  Save  me  from  them,  Robert !  Save  me  from 
them  all ! " 

"  Clara,  my  daughter,"  said  Churm,  "  you 
need  not  turn  from  me.  I  have  been  belied  to 
you.  Could  I  change  ?  They  forged  the  letters 
that  made  you  distrust  me." 

"Is  it  so,  Robert  ? "  said  the  figure  by  my 
heart. 

"  Yes,  Cecil,  Churm  is  true  as  faith." 

There  needed  no  further  interpretation.  Clara 
Denmaii  and  Cecil  Dreeme  were  one.  This 
strange  mystery  was  clear  as  day. 

She  withdrew  from  me,  and  as  her  eyes  met 
mine,  a  woman's  blush  signalled  the  change  in 
our  relations.  Yes;  this  friend  closer  than  a 
brother  was  a  woman. 

"  My  daughter !  "  said  Churm,  embracing  her 
tenderly,  like  a  father. 

I  perceived  that  this  womanish  drapery  had 
been  flung  upon  her  by  her  captors,  to  restore  her 
to  her  sex  and  its  responsibilities. 

"  Densdeth  ?  "  she  asked,  with  a  shudder. 

"  Dead  !    God  forgive  him !  "  answered  Churm. 

"  Let  us  go,"  she  said.  "  Another  hour  in  this 
place  with  that  foul  woman  would  have  mad 
dened  me." 


336  CECIL   DREEME. 

She  passed  from  the  room  with  Churm. 

Raleigh  stepped  forward.  "  You  have  found 
a  friend,"  said  he  to  me  ;  "  you  will  both  go 
with  her.  Leave  me  to  see  to  this  business  of 
the  dead  men  and  this  prison-house. "" 

"  Thank  you,  Raleigh,"  said  I ;  "we  will  go 
with  her,  and  relieve  you  as  soon  as  she  is  safe, 
after  all  these  terrors." 

"  A  brave  woman  !  "  he  said.  "  I  am  happy 
that  I  have  had  some  slight  share  in  her  rescue." 

"  The  whole,  Raleigh." 

"  There  he  lies  !  "  whispered  Churm,  as  we 
passed  the  door  where  the  dead  men  were. 

Cecil  Dreeme  glanced  uneasily  at  me  and  at 
the  dagger  I  still  carried. 

"  No,"  said  I,  interpreting  the  look ;  "  not  by 
me  !  not  by  any  of  us  !  An  old  vengeance  has 
overtaken  him.  Towner  killed  him,  and  also  lies 
there  dead." 

"  Towner !  "  said  Dreeme,  "  he  was  another 
bad  spirit  of  the  baser  sort  to  my  father.  Both 
dead !  Densdeth  dead  !  May  he  be  forgiven  for 
all  the  cruel  harm  he  has  done  to  me  and  mine !  " 

Cecil  and  I  took  the  back  seat  of  the  carriage. 
I  wrapped  her  up  in  Towner's  great  cloak,  and 
drew  the  hood  over  her  head. 

She  smiled  as  I  did  these  little  offices,  and 
shrank  away  a  little. 

Covered  with  the  hood  and  draped  with  the 


CECIL  DREEME.  337 

great  cloak,  she  seemed  a  very  woman.  Each 
of  us  felt  the  awkwardness  of  our  position. 

"  AVe  shall  not  be  friends  the  less,  Mr.  Byng," 
said  she. 

"  Friends,  Cecil !  " 

I  took  the  hand  she  offered,  and  kept  it.  For 
a  moment  I  forgot  old  sorrows  and  present  anxie 
ties  in  this  strange  new  joy. 

Churm  had  now  got  his  bays  into  their  pace. 
He  turned  and  looked  with  his  large  benignancy 
of  expression  upon  his  daughter.  Then  tears 
came  into  his  eyes. 

"  I  have  missed  you,  longed  for  you,  yearned 
after  you,  sought  you  bitterly,"  he  said. 

"  Not  more  bitterly  than  I  sorrowed  when  I 
saw  in  your  own  hand  that  you  had  taken  the 
side  of  that  base  man,  and  abandoned  me." 

"  My  brave  child !     My  poor,  forlorn  girl !  " 

"  Never  forlorn  after  Mr.  Byng  found  me," 
said  Cecil.  And  when  I  looked  at  her  she  flushed 
again.  "He  has  been  a  brother,  —  yes,  closer 
than  a  brother  to  me.  I  should  have  died,  body 
and  soul,  starved  and  worn  out  for  lack  of  affec 
tion  and  sympathy,  unless  he  had  come,  sent  by 
God." 

"  And  I,  Cecil,  —  all  my  better  nature  would 
have  perished  utterly  in  the  strange  temptations 
of  these  weeks,  except  for  your  sweet  influence. 
You  have  saved  me." 

15  T 


338  CECIL   DREEME. 

"  We  have  much  to  tell  each  other,  my  child," 
said  Churm. 

"  Much.  But  I  owe  it  to  Mr.  Byng  to  de 
scribe  at  once  how  I  came  to  be  under  false 
colors,  unsexed." 

"  Never  unsexed,  Cecil !  I  could  not  explain 
to  myself  in  what  your  society  differed  from 
every  other.  It  was  in  this.  In  the  guise  of 
man,  you  were  thorough  woman  still.  I  talked 
to  you  and  thought  of  you,  although  I  was  not 
conscious  of  it,  as  man  does  to  woman  only.  I 
opened  my  heart  to  you  as  one  does  to  —  a  sis 
ter,  a  sweet  sister." 

"  Well,"  said  Dreeme,  "  I  must  tell  you  my 
little  history  briefly,  to  justify  myself.  I  cannot 
make  it  a  merry  one.  Much  of  it  you  know ; 
more  perhaps  you  infer.  You  can  understand 
the  struggle  in  my  heart  when  my  father  said  to 
me,  '  Marry  this  man,  or  I  am  brought  to  shame.' 
How  could  I  so  desecrate  my  womanhood  ?  Here 
was  one  whom  for  himself  I  disliked  and  dis 
trusted,  and  who  was  so  base,  having  failed  to 
gain  my  love,  as  to  use  force  —  moral  force  — 
and  degrade  my  father  to  be  the  accomplice  of 
his  tyranny." 

Dreerne  —  for  so  I  must  call  him  —  spoke  with 
a  passionate  indignation.  I  could  comprehend 
the  impression  these  ardent  moods  had  made 
upon  Densdeth's  intellect.  It  was,  indeed,  splen- 


CECIL   DREEME.  339 

did  tragedy  to  hear  him  speak,  —  splendid,  if  the 
tragedy  had  not  been  all  too  real,  and  yet  un 
finished. 

"  Dislike  and  distrust,  repugnance  against  him 
for  his  plot,  —  had  you  no  other  feeling  toward 
Densdeth  ?  "  Churm  asked. 

"  These  and  the  instinctive  recoil  of  a  pure 
being  from  a  foul  being.  Only  these  at  first. 
Then  came  the  insurrection  of  all  my  woman's 
heart  against  his  corruption  of  my  father's  nature 
and  compulsion  of  me  through  him.  Mr.  Dens 
deth  treated  me  with  personal  respect.  He  left 
the  ugly  work  to  my  father,  his  slave.  Ah,  my 
poor  father !  " 

"  And  your  sister,  —  what  part  did  she  take  ?  " 

"  My  sister  !  "  said  Cecil  Dreeme,  with  burning 
cheeks,  and  as  she  spoke  her  hand  grasped  mine 
convulsively.  "  My  sister  kept  aloof.  She  offered 
me  no  sympathy.  She  repelled  my  confidence, 
as  she  had  long  done.  I  had  no  friend  to  whom 
I  could  say,  '  Save  me  from  him  who  should  love 
me  dearest,  who  should  brave  whatever  pang 
there  is  in  public  shame,  rather  than  degrade 
his  daughter  to  such  ignominy.'  Ah  me !  that 
Heaven  should  have  so  heaped  misery  upon  me ! 
And  the  worst  to  come  !  —  the  worst  —  the  worst 
to  come !'" 

"  And  I  was  across  seas ! "  said  Churm,  bit 
terly. 


340  CECIL   DREEME. 

"  I  had  said  to  my  father  at  the  beginning,  '  If 
Mr.  Churm  were  here,  you  would  not  dare  sacri 
fice  me.'  '  Mr.  Churm,'  he  replied,  '  would  have 
no  sympathy  for  this  freak  of  rejecting  a  man 
so  distinguished  and  unexceptionable  as  Mr. 
Densdeth.'  And,  indeed,  there  came  presently 
a  letter  from  you  to  that  effect.  It  was  you, — 
style,  hand,  everything,  even  to  the  most  delicate 
characteristic  expressions.  How  could  I  suspect 
my  own  father  of  so  base  a  forgery  ?  Then  came 
another,  sterner  ;  and  then  another,  in  which  you 
disowned  and  cast  me  off  finally,  unless  I  should 
consent.  That  crushed  my  heart.  That  almost 
broke  down  my  power  of  resistance." 

"  My  poor  child !  my  dear  child  !  "  Churm  al 
most  moaned ;  "  and  I  was  not  here  to  help !  " 

"  I  might  have  yielded  for  pure  forlornness 
and  despair,"  Dreeme  went  on,  "  when  there  was 
suddenly  revealed  to  me,  by  a  flash  of  insight,  a 
crime,  a  treason,  and  a  sin,  which  changed  my 
repugnance  for  that  guilty  man,  now  dead,  into 
utter  abhorrence  and  loathing.  Do  not  ask  me 
what !  " 

We  need  not  ask.  All  divined.  And  now, 
in  the  presence  of  these  two  who  had  warned 
me,  their  neglected  cautions  rushed  back  upon 
my  mind.  All  were  silent  a  moment,  while 
Churm's  bays  bowled  us  merrily  over  the  frost- 
stiffened  road,  —  merrily  as  if  we  were  driving 


CECIL  DREEME.  341 

from  a  rural  wedding  to  the  city  festival  in  its 
honor. 

"  When  this  sad  sin  and  shame  flashed  upon 
me,"  said  Dreeme,  "  I  did  not  wait  one  moment 
to  let  the  edge  of  my  horror  dull.  I  sent  for 
Densdeth.  Was  that  unwomanly,  my  father  ?  " 

"  Unwomanly,  my  child  !     It  was  heroic  !  " 

"  I  sent  for  him.  I  faced  him  there  under  my 
father's  roof,  which  he  had  so  dishonored.  For 
that  moment  my  fear  of  him  was  vanished.  I 
said  to  him  but  a  few  words.  God's  angel  in 
my  breast  spoke  for  me." 

God's  angel  was  speaking  now  in  Dreeme's 
words.  With  the  remembrance  of  that  terrible 
interview,  —  that  battle  of  purity  against  foul 
ness,  —  his  low  deep  voice  rang  like  a  prophet's, 
that  curses  for  God. 

"  But  the  man  was  not  touched,"  continued 
the  same  solemn  voice.  "  Strange  power  of  sin 
to  deaden  the  soul !  He  was  not  touched.  No 
shudder  at  his  sacrilege  !  No  great  heart-break 
ing  pang  of  self-loathing !  He  answered  my 
giant  agony  with  compliments.  *  A  wonderful 
actress,'  he  said,  '  I  was.  It  was  sublime,'  he 
said,  i  to  see  me  so  wrought  up.  The  sight  of 
such  emotion  would  be  cheaply  bought  with  any 
villany ' ;  and  he  bowed  and  smiled  and  played 
with  his  watch-chain." 

Dreeme's  voice,  as  he  repeated  these  phrases, 


342  CECIL   DREEME. 

had  unconsciously  adopted  the  soft,  sneering  tone 
of  their  speaker.  It  was  as  if  Densdeth  were 
called  back,  and  sitting  by  our  side. 

"Forget  that  man,  if  man  he  were,  Cecil," 
I  breathed,  with  a  shiver.  "  Let  his  harm  to  us 
die  with  him  !  Let  his  memory  be  an  unopened 
coffin  in  a  ruined  and  abandoned  vault !  " 

"  Ah  Robert !  his  harm  is  not  yet  wholly  dead  ; 
nor  are  the  souls  he  poisoned  cured.  The  days 
of  all  a  lifetime  cannot  heap  up  forgetfulness 
enough  to  bury  the  thought  of  him.  He  must 
lie  in  our  hearts  and  breed  nightshade." 

"  It  was  after  this  interview,  I  suppose,"  said 
Churm,  "  that  the  thought  of  flight  came  to 
you." 

"  The  passion  —  the  frenzy  —  of  those  terrible 
moments  flung  me  into  a  fever.  I  went  to  my 
room,  fell  upon  my  bed,  and  passed  into  a  half- 
unconscious  state.  I  was  aware  of  my  father's 
coming  in,  and  muttering  to  himself :  '  Illness 
will  do  her  good.  This  wicked  obstinacy  must 
break  down,  —  yes,  must  break  down.'  I  was 
aware  of  my  sister  looking  at  me  from  the  door, 
with  a  pale,  hard  face,  and  then  turning  and 
leaving  me  to  myself.  While  I  lay  there  in 
a  half-trance,  with  old  fancies  drifting  through 
my  mind,  I  remembered  how  but  yesterday,  in 
passing  Chrysalis,  I  had  marked  the  notice  of 
studios  to  let,  and  how  I  had  longed  that  I  were 


CECIL  DREEME.  343 

some  forgotten  orphan,  living  there,  and  paint 
ing  for  my  bread." 

"They  never  told  me,  Cecil,"  said  I,  "that 
you  had  been  an  artist." 

"  I  had  not  been,  in  any  ripe  sense,  an  artist. 
No  amateur  can  be.  I  was  a  diligent  observer, 
a  conscientious  student,  a  laborious  plodder.  I 
had  not  been  baptized  by  sorrow  and  necessity. 
Power,  if  I  have  it,  came  to  me  with  pangs." 

"  That  is  the  old  story,"  said  I.  "  Genius  is 
quickened,  if  not  created,  by  throes  of  anguish  in 
the  soul." 

"  Such  is  the  history  of  my  force.  Well,  as  I 
said,  that  fancy  of  an  artist's  life  in  Chrysalis 
came  back  to  me.  It  grew  all  day,  and  as  my 
fever  heightened, —  for  they  left  me  alone,  except 
that  the  family  physician  came  in,  and  said, 
4  Slight  fever,  —  let  her  sleep  it  off ! '  —  as  the 
fever  heightened,  and  I  became  light-headed,  the 
fancy  developed  in  my  mind.  It  was  a  mad 
scheme.  In  a  sane  moment  I  should  not  have 
ventured  it.  But  all  the  while  something  was 
whispering  me,  <  Fly  this  house  :  its  air  is  pollu 
tion  ! '  Night  came.  I  rose  cautiously.  How 
well  I  remember  it  all !  —  my  tremors  at  every 
sound,  my  groping  in  the  dar£,  my  confidence 
in  my  purpose,  my  throbs  of  delirious  joy  at 
the  hope  t)f  escape,  —  how  I  laughed  to  myself, 
when  I  found  I  had  money  enough  for  many 


344  CECIL  DREEME. 

months,  —  how  I  dressed  myself  in  a  suit  of 
clothes  I  had  worn  as  the  lover  in  a  little  domes 
tic  drama  we  played  at  home  in  happier  days  ! 
Do  not  think  me  unwomanly  for  this  disguise." 

"  Unwomanly,  my  child  !  "  said  Churrn.  "  It 
was  the  triumph  of  womanhood  over  womanish- 
ness  !  " 

"I  wrapped  myself,"  Dreeme  continued,  "in 
a  cloak,  part  of  that  forgotten  costume ;  I  stole 
down  the  great  staircase,  half  timorous,  half 
bold,  all  desperate.  I  looked  into  the  parlors. 
They  were  brilliantly  lighted.  In  the  distant 
mirror,  at  the  rear,  I  could  see  the  image  of  my 
sister,  sitting  alone,  and,  as  I  thought,  drooping 
and  weary.  Ah,  how  I  longed  to  fling  myself 
into  her  arms,  and  pray  her  to  weep  with  me  ! 
But  I  knew  that  she  would  turn  away  lightly 
and  with  scorn.  I  shrank  back  for  fear  of  de 
tection.  You  know  that  draped  statue  in  the 
hall  ?  " 

"  I  know  it,"  replied  I,  remembering  what 
misery  of  my  heart  it  had  beheld,  in  its  marble 
calm. 

"In  my  fevered  imagination  it  took  ghostly 
life.  It  seemed  to  become  the  shadow  of  myself, 
and  I  paused  an  instant  to  charge  it  to  watch 
over  those  who  drove  me  forth,  —  to  be  a  holy 
monitor  in  that  ill-doing  house.  It  w*as  marble, 
and  they  could  not  harm  it." 


CECIL   DREEME.  345 

"  That  statue  has  seemed  to  me  your  presence 
there,"  I  said,  "  and  a  sorrowful  watcher." 

I  could  not  continue,  and  describe  that  fatal 
interview  of  last  night.  I  was  silent,  and  in  a 
moment  Cecil  Dreeme  went  on. 

"  The  rest  you  mostly  know.  You  know  how 
my  rash  venture  succeeded  from  its  very  rash 
ness.  I  won  Locksley.  The  poor  fellow  had  had 
troubles  of  his  own,  and  I  felt  that  I  was  safe 
with  him,  even  if  he  discovered  my  secret.  He 
gossiped  to  me  innocently  of  my  own  disappear 
ance,  and  how  they  were  searching  for  me  far 
and  wide ;  but  never  within  a  stone's  throw  of 
my  home." 

"  It  was  an  inspiration,"  said  I,  "  your  con 
cealment  there,  —  such  a  plan  as  only  genius 
devises." 

"  A  mad  scheme ! "  Dreeme  said,  musingly. 
"  I  hardly  deem  myself  responsible  for  it.  And 
who  can  yet  say  whether  it  was  well  and  wisely 
done?" 

"  Well  and  wisely  !  "  said  Churm.  "  You  are 
saved,  and  the  tempter  is  dead." 

"  Ah  !  "  Dreeme  sighed,  "  what  desolate  days 
I  passed  in  my  prison  in  Chrysalis !  I  felt  like 
one  dead,  as  the  world  supposed  me,  —  like  one 
murdered,  —  one  walled  up  in  a  living  grave; 
and  I  gave  myself  no  thought  of  ever  emerging 
into  life  again.  Why  should  I  love  daylight  ? 

15* 


346  CECIL   DREEME. 

What  was  there  for  me  there  ?  Only  treachery. 
Who  ?  Only  traitors.  I  had  no  one  in  the  world 
to  trust.  I  dwelt  alone  with  God." 

Dreeme  paused.  The  tears  stood  in  those 
brave,  steady  eyes.  How  utterly  desolate  indeed 
had  been  the  fate  of  this  noble  soul !  How  dark 
iii  the  chill  days  of  winter  !  How  lonely  in  his 
bleak  den  in  Chrysalis !  Stern  lessons  befall  the 
strong. 

"  Painting  my  Lear  kept  me  alive,  with  a  mor 
bid  life.  It  was  my  own  tragedy,  Robert.  I  am 
the  Cordelia.  When  you  did  not  recognize  my 
father  and  sister  on  that  canvas,  I  felt  that  my 
self  was  safe  from  your  detection." 

"  How  blind  I  have  been  !  "  I  exclaimed ; 
"  and  now  that  I  recall  the  picture,  I  perceive 
those  veiled  likenesses,  and  wonder  at  my  dul- 
iiess." 

"  Not  veiled  from  me,"  said  Churm.  "  You 
saw  me  recognize  them,  Byng.  Ah,  my  child ! 
how  bitter  it  is  to  think  of  you  there  pining  away 
alone,  and  I  under  the  same  roof,  saddening  my 
heart  with  sorrow  for  your  loss  !  " 

"  Yes,  my  father ;  but  how  much  bitterer  for 
me,  who  had  loved  and  trusted  you  like  a 
daughter,  to  believe  that  you  were  as  cruel  a 
traitor  as  the  rest,  —  that  you  too  would  betray 
me  in  a  moment.  So  I  lived  there  alone,  putting 
my  agony  into  my  picture.  There  was  a  strange 


CECIL   DREEME.  847 

relief  in  so  punishing,  as  it  were,  the  guilty.  And 
when  I  had  punished  them,  I  forgave  them.  The 
rancor,  if  rancor  there  were,  had  gone  out  of  me. 
I  was  ready  for  kindlier  influences.  They  did 
not  come.  I  could  not  seek  them.  I  was  no 
longer  sustained  by  the  vigor  of  my  revolt.  My 
days  grew  inexpressibly  dreary.  The  life  was 
wearing.  And  then  I  was  starving  for  all  that 
my  dear  friend  and  preserver,  Mr.  Byng,  has 
given  me,  —  starving  to  death,  Robert ;  and  there 
I  should  have  died  alone  but  for  you.  I  knew 
you  as  my  old  playmate  from  the  first  moment." 

I  pressed  her  hand.  "  It  is  a  touching  his 
tory,"  I  said,  "  but  strange  to  me  still,  —  strange 
as  a  dream." 

"  Yes,  and  my  name,  when  I  abandon  it,  will 
make  the  whole  seem  dreamier.  My  name  was 
a  sudden  fancy,  in  reply  to  Locksley's  query, 
what  he  should  call  me.  Cecil  ;  I  did  not 
quite  give  up  my  womanhood,  as  Cecil.  And 
Dreeme, —  it  occurred  to  me  that,  if  ever  in  life 
I  should  escape  danger  and  be  at  peace,  my  pres 
ent  episode  of  disguise  and  concealment  would 
1)0  recalled  by  me  only  as  a  dream.  And  from 
such  a  fancy,  half  metaphysical,  half  mere  girl- 
islmess,  I  named  myself.  My  danger  must  ex 
cuse  the  alias." 

A  girlish  fancy  !  Every  moment  it  came  to  me 
more  distinctly  that  Cecil  Dreeme  and  I  could 


348  CECIL   DEEEME. 

never  be  Damon  and  Pythias  again.  Ignorantly 
I  had  loved  my  friend  as  one  loves  a  woman 
only.  This  was  love, — unforced,  self-created, 
undoubting,  complete.  And  now  that  the  friend 
proved  a  woman,  a  great  gulf  opened  between  us. 
And  as  in  my  first  interview  with  Emma  Den- 
man,  I  had  fancied  that  form  in  the  mirror  the 
spirit  of  her  sister  regarding  us,  now  again  I 
seemed  to  see,  projected  against  a  lurid  future, 
a  slight,  elegant  figure  in  deep  mourning,  watch 
ing  me,  now  with  a  baleful,  now  with  a  pleading 
look. 

Thinking  thus,  I  let  fall  Cecil's  hand,  and  drew 
apart  a  little.  Meantime  Churm's  bays  whirled 
us  merrily  over  the  frozen  turnpike,  through  the 
brisk  air  of  that  March  evening.  We  might,  for 
all  the  passers  knew,  have  left  a  warm  and  kindly 
fireside,  and  now  were  speeding  back  to  our  own 
cheerful  homes,  talking  as  we  went  of  rural  hos 
pitality,  and  how  wealthy  with  content  was  life 
in  a  calm  old  country-house. 

But  thinking  of  what  might  start  up  between 
Cecil  Dreerne  and  me,  and  part  us,  I  let  fall 
the  hand  I  held. 

"  No,  Robert !  "  said  Cecil,  reaching  out  that 
slight  hand  again,  and  taking  mine.  "  I  can 
not  let  my  friend  go.  You  were  dear  and 
true  to  me  when  I  was  alone.  Do  not  punish 
me,  that  I  was  acting  an  unwilling  deceit  with 


CECIL   DREEME.  349 

you.  I  longed  to  give  you  all  my  confidence. 
But  how  could  I?" 

How  could  she,  indeed  ?  To  me,  of  all  other 
men,  how  could  she  ?  To  me,  the  friend  of  her 
father,  the  comrade  of  Densdeth,  the  disciple 
of  Churm,  perhaps  the  lover  of  her  sister,  the 
ally  of  all  whose  perfidy  had  wronged  her,  — 
how  could  she  offer  to  me  the  confidence  that 
would  compel  me  to  choose  between  her  and 
them  ?  How  could  she,  alone  in  that  solitude 
of  Chrysalis,  cover  her  face  with  her  hands  and 
whisper,  —  "Robert,  I  am  a  woman!" 

"  Now,  my  child,"  said  Churm,  "  we  strike  the 
pavements  in  a  few  moments.  The  bays  will 
give  me  my  hands  full  in  the  crowded  streets, 
and  across  the  ferry.  Tell  us  how  you  came 
at  last  into  Densdeth's  power." 

"  You  remember  my  terror,  Robert,  when  at 
last  I  encountered  that  evil  spirit  again.  He 
knew  me.  He  must  have  watched  Chrysalis, 
and  seen  me  enter  with  you.  Last  night  you 
did  not  come.  I  went  out  alone,  not  without 
some  trepidation,  to  take  my  walk.  By  and  by 
I  perceived  a  carriage  following  me.  I  turned 
into  a  side  street.  It  drove  up.  Densdeth's 
black  servant  —  that  Afreet  creature  —  sprang 
out  with  another  person.  They  dragged  me 
into  the  carriage,  and  smothered  my  screams." 

"  O  Cecil,"  I  cried,  "  if  I  could  have  saved 
you  this ! " 


350  CECIL   DREEME. 

No  wonder  that  Densdeth  smiled  triumphant 
in  the  corridor  of  the  opera,  —  smiled  in  double 
triumph  over  me ! 

"  I  had  no  fears,  Robert.  I  felt  that  you 
would  miss  me.  I  hoped  that  you  would  trace 
me.  At  the  ferry  Densdeth  got  into  the  carriage. 
He  treated  me  simply  as  an  insane  person,  and 
was  gentle  enough.  I  do  not  think  he  had  given 
up  the  thought  that  he  could  master  my  mind, 
—  that  he  could  weary  out  my  moral  force,  and 
triumph  over  me  by  dint  of  sheer  devilishness. 
He  left  me  in  peace  last  night.  He  had  but 
just  entered  to-day,  and  began  to  address  me 
quietly,  as  if  I  were  in  my  father's  parlor,  and 
he  were  again  my  allowed  suitor,  when  the 
woman  burst  in  with  the  news  of  a  hostile  arrival. 
He  ran  out,  and  presently  I  heard  that  dreadful 
scream  of  exultation  and  despair.  There  seemed 
to  me  two  voices  mingled,  —  the  cry  of  a  inock 
ing  fiend  baffled,  and  the  shout  of  a  rebel  slave." 

"  It  was  so,"  said  Churm.  "  How  calmly  you 
speak  of  all  this,  my  child  ! " 

"  It  is  the  life  of  Cecil  Dreeme,  and  fast  be 
coming  merely  historic  to  me,  passing  away  into 
my  dark  ages.  These  will  be  scenes  never  to 
be  forgotten,  but  never  recalled.  And  now, 
a  word  of  my  father.  Will  the  shame  he  feared 
come  upon  him  at  last  ?  " 

"  It  may  not.    Only  Densdeth  knew  the  crime. 


CECIL  DEEEME.  351 

But  Densdeth  gone,  poverty  and  sudden  defeat 
of  all  his  ambitious  schemes  must  befall  him." 

"  Better  so !  Poverty,  shame  even,  are  better 
for  the  soul  than  a  life  that  is  a  lie.  Only 
harsh  treatment  will  teach  a  nature  like  my 
father's  the  sin  of  sin.  Poor  and  ashamed,  he 
will  learn  to  prize  my  love." 

"  You  can  love  him  still,  Cecil,  —  so  cruel, 
so  base  ?  "  I  asked. 

"  Love  does  not  alter  for  any  error  of  its 
object." 

"  Error  ?     I  name  it  guilt,  sacrilege  !  " 

"  Justice  tells  me  that  he  must  suffer.  To 
every  sin  is  appointed  its  own  misery.  An  in 
evitable  penalty  announces  the  broken  law.  The 
misery  is  the  atonement  for  the  sin.  I  sorrow 
for  the  sufferer.  Not  that  he  suffers,  —  but 
that  he  should  have  sinned.  The  fiery  pangs 
will  burn  away  the  taint,  and  leave  the  soul 
as  white  and  pure  as  any  most  unsullied." 

"  Cecil,"  said  I,  after  a  silence,  "  you  do  not 
ask  of  your  sister." 

"  No,"  she  said,  turning  from  me.  She  would 
have  withdrawn  her  hand.  I  held  it  closer  than 
before. 


CHAPTER    XXX. 

DENSDETH'S  DAEK  ROOM. 

WE  were  now  upon  the  pavements.  Conver 
sation  ceased.  The  broad  facts  had  been  stated. 
The  myriad  details  must  wait  for  quieter  hours. 
We  were  grave  and  expectant,  for  in  the  mind 
of  each  was  an  unspoken  dread  that  all  our  sor 
row  was  not  over. 

Churm  drove  hard.  It  was  chilly  sunset,  a 
melancholy  lurid  twilight  of  March,  when  we 
turned  out  of  Mannering  Place  and  drew  up  in 
front  of  Chrysalis.  Alternate  thaw  and  freezing 
had  fouled  the  snow  in  Ailanthus  Square.  It 
lay  in  patches,  streaked  with  dirt  of  the  city, 
and  between  was  the  sodden  grass,  all  trampled 
uneven  and  stiffening  now  with  the  evening  frost. 

"  The  world  never  looked  so  dreary,"  said  I. 

"  This  is  the  very  end  of  bitter  winter,"  said 
Cecil ;  "let  us  hope  now  for  brighter  spring  at 
hand.  We  will  create  it  in  ourselves." 

"  Yes,"  said  Churm,  whistling  for  his  groom. 
"  We  must  not  let  forlornness  come  upon  us 


CECIL  DREEME.  353 

now,  after  this  great  mercy  of  my  child's  return. 
Byng,  you  had  better  take  your  friend  Cecil 
Dreeme  up  to  your  palace-chamber,  while  I  go 
round  to  the  Minedurt,  with  Locksley,  and  have 
dinner  brought.  We  all  need  it,  after  the  drive 
and  the  day." 

Dreeme  and  I  climbed  the  broad  staircase. 
We  walked  those  few  steps  along  the  corridor  to 
my  door.  It  was  almost  dusk.  As  we  passed 
the  door  of  Densdeth's  dark  room,  each  was  con 
scious  anew  how  death  had  freed  the  world  from 
that  demon  influence.  We  seemed  to  breathe 
freer. 

We  entered  my  great  chamber.  It  was  already 
sombre  with  the  shades  of  evening.  Only  a  dim 
light  came  through  the  mullioned  and  trefoiled 
windows.  I  established  my  guest  in  an  arm 
chair.  She  dropped  the  hood  of  her  cloak.  I 
smiled  to  notice  the  masculine  effect  of  her  crisp 
curling  black  hair.  She  perceived  my  feeling, 
and  smiled  also.  A  quiet  domestic  feeling  seemed 
to  grow  up  between  us.  I  busied  myself  in 
reviving  the  fire  from  its  ashes. 

Cecil  sat  silent.  Neither  was  yet  at  home  in 
our  new  relation.  I  made  occupation,  to  fill  a 
silence  I  shrank  from  breaking  with  words,  by 
examining  the  letter-box  at  my  door. 

There  was  the  evening  paper  in  the  box.  To 
morrow  it  would  be  filled  with  staring  capitals, 


354  CECIL   DKEEME. 

and  all  this  sorry  business  of  the  execution  of 
Densdeth  and  the  exposing  of  Huffmire. 

There  were  sundry  cards  in  the  box  ;  cards  of 
lounging  men  about  town,  who  had  come  to  kill 
a  half-hour  at  my  expense  ;  a  card  from  a  friend 
of  Stillfleet's  from  Boston,  asking  permission  to 
recover  his  dress  coat  and  waistcoat,  deposited  in 
some  drawer  of  Rubbish  Palace  when  he  came 
last  a-wooing ;  a  card  from  Madame  de  Nigaud, 
with  —  "  Oysters  and  Frezzaniga  at  ten.  Come, 
or  I  cut  you !  "  —  cards  to  the  balls  after  Lent ;  a 
tailor's  bill ;  a  club  notice  ;  a  ticket  for  a  private 
view  of  Sion's  new  statue  of  Purity. 

There  was  also  a  billet  addressed  to  me  in  a 
hand  I  seemed  to  know. 

"  There  is  what  the  world  had  to  say  to  me 
this  afternoon,"  I  said,  handing  the  cards  to  Cecil 
Dreeme. 

I  walked  toward  the  window  for  more  light  to 
read  my  billet ;  also  to  hide  my  face  while  I  read. 
For  I  knew  the  hand  of  the  address. 

It  was  Emma  Dennian's. 

It  cost  me  a  strong  effort  to  tear  open  that 
slight  missive.  I  knew  not  what  I  dreaded  ;  but 
I  was  aware  of  a  miserable  terror,  lest  the  sister 
should  come  between  me  and  Cecil  Dreeme, 
blighting  both. 

So  I  opened  the  letter,  and  began  to  read  it, 
with  hasty  intentness,  by  that  dim  light  through 


CECIL  DREEME.  355 

the  narrow  windows.  Presently,  as  I  divined  its 
inner  meaning,  and  anticipated  some  sorrowful, 
some  pitiful  confession  at  the  close,  I  read  more 
slowly,  not  to  lose  the  significance  of  a  word. 
The  light  faded  rapidly,  and  each  syllable  was 
harder  to  decipher ;  and  yet  each,  as  I  compre 
hended  it,  seemed  to  trail  away  and  write  itself 
anew  on  the  dimness  before  me,  in  ineffaceable 
letters  of  fire. 

This  was  the  letter. 

"  Robert,  good-bye  !  I  could  not  see  you  face 
to  face  again,  —  I  that  have  almost  betrayed  you 
with  my  sin. 

"  But  you  shall  be  safe  from  any  further  treach 
ery  of  mine,  and  for  the  deep  dread  I  have  of 
myself,  lest  I  again  become  a  traitor  to  some 
trusting  soul,  I  shall  put  any  further  evil  work  in 
this  world  out  of  my  power. 

"I  tried  —  God  knows  I  tried  for  myself  and 
you  —  to  keep  away  from  between  us  any  other 
sentiment  than  liking  and  simple  good-will.  But 
I  could  not  withhold  myself  from  loving  you. 
It  was  my  destiny  first  to  be  taught  what  love 
meant  through  you,  and  so  to  learn  that  I  must 
never  hope  for  love  —  for  true  love  —  in  this 
waste  misery  of  my  ruined  earthly  life.  I  could 
not  check  you  from  loving  me  with  that  hesitat 
ing  love  you  have  given.  I  knew,  0  Robert !  I 


356  CECIL   DREEME. 

knew  why  you  could  not  love  me  with  frank 
abandonment.  I  felt  the  want  in  myself  you 
dimly  and  far  away  perceived.  I  was  conscious 
in  my  whole  being  of  the  taint  that  repelled  you. 

"And  yet  sometimes  —  forgive  me,  for  I  hate 
myself,  I  loathe  myself  —  I  was  willing  to  accept 
the  success  of  my  lie,  my  acted  lie.  I  knew  my 
power  over  you,  and  saw  that  it  was  greater 
because  you  had  a  doubt  to  overcome.  Alas  for 
me  for  such  dishonor !  But  I  yielded  to  the 
sweet  delusion  that  I  could  repair  the  past,  that 
by  future  truth  to  you  I  could  annihilate  the 
falsehood  in  me,  upon  which  any  love  of  yours 
must  be  based. 

"  And  then,  too,  Robert,  —  for  such  is  the 
cruel  despotism  of  deceit,  —  I  have  found  a  base 
joy  in  my  power  to  charm  you,  so  that  you  for 
got  everything  in  my  society.  I  have  even  felt 
a  baser  pleasure  in  keeping  higher  and  holier 
aspirations  away  from  your  soul,  lest  you  should 
become  too  sensitive,  and  so  know  me  too  well. 
Ah,  how  terrible  is  this  corruption  of  a  hidden 
sin !  It  has  made  me  the  foe  of  purity,  eager  to 
drag  others  down  to  my  level. 

"And  yet  I  have  agonized  against  it.  More 
steadily,  Robert,  since  you  came.  Why  did  you 
not  come  years  ago  ?  Why  were  you  ever  away  ? 
I  do  not  feel  my  nature  wholly  base.  It  seems 
to  me  that  I  might  have  been  noble,  if  I  had  been 


CECIL  DREEME.  357 

guarded  better  in  the  innocent  days.  But  I  will 
be  guarded,  self-guarded,  when  this  life  I  loathe 
is  past,  and  that  other  life  begun,  with  all  my 
stern  experience. 

"  You  will  not  despise  me.  I  know  that  it  is 
braver  to  speak  than  to  be  silent ;  and  then  this 
struggle  to  be  true  with  you  helps  me  in  the 
greater  struggle  to  be  true  with  God.  Do  not 
despise  me,  Robert !  I  saw  what  was  in  your 
mind  when  we  parted.  It  is  so.  I  might  deceive 
you  now.  I  might  trifle  away  your  suspicions ; 
I  might  repel  them  with  indignation.  I  will  not. 
They  are  just. 

"  It  is  said.  I  shall  die  happier.  I  must  die. 
I  cannot  trust  myself.  I  cannot  bear  to  act  my 
daily  lie  before  the  world.  I  might  again  deceive, 
and  again  see  the  same  misery  in  another  I 
have  seen  in  you,  —  again  see  a  look  of  love 
grow  cold,  —  again  see  doubt  creep  in  and  mur 
der  faith.  I  cannot  trust  myself.  I  might  love 
you  with  all  my  heart,  and  yet  go  miserably 
yielding  to  a  temptation.  And  so  good-bye  to 
my  life,  and  all  my  womanly  hopes  ! 

"  Ah  Robert,  if  I  could  but  have  escaped  that 
prying  spirit  of  evil,  —  that  one  fatal  being  who 
mastered  me  with  the  first  look,  who  saw  the 
small  germ  of  a  bad  tendency  in  me,  and  nur 
tured  it ! 

"  But  do  not  believe  that  I  was  to  be  so  base 


358  CECIL  DREEME. 

as  it  may  seem  to  my  sister.  I  did  not  love  her 
ever.  Her  nature  was  a  constant  reproach  to 
mine.  But  I  should  have  saved  her  from  the 
infamy  of  her  marriage.  I  should,  —  0  yes  !  I 
thank  God  that  I  had  emancipated  myself  enough 
for  that.  I  should  have  saved  her;  but  while 
I  was  struggling  with  my  dread  of  shame,  my 
pride,  and  all  the  misery  of  an  avowal,  —  while  I 
was  weeping  and  praying,  and  gaining  strength 
to  be  as  sisterly  as  I  could  be  so  late,  —  she  was 
drowning!  And  so  her  sweet,  innocent  life  per 
ished,  and  the  fault  was  mine,  —  the  fault  was 
mine,  that  I  had  not  long  before  told  her  such 
a  marriage  would  be  sacrilege. 

"  I  have  had  a  bitter  burden  to  bear  since  then, 

—  a  wearing  weight  of  repentance.     Ah  !  if  my 
sister  could  have  lived,  I  might  have  shown  her 
that  I  was  worthy  of  her  love.     I  might  have 
wrought  her  to  forget  those  years  of  alienation, 

—  all  my  fault,  and  never  fault  of  hers,  —  my 
noble,  hapless  sister  !     A  heavy  burden  of  shame 
and   self-disgust !      And   heavier,  heavier,  since 
you  came  ;  —  heavier,  because,  as  I  have  learned 
to  know  what  true  love  means,  and  to  despair  of 
ever  being  worthy  of  it,  the  reaction  of  hopeless 
ness  has  almost  driven  me  to  utter  self-abandon 
ment,  and  that  miserable  comfort  of  recklessness. 
And  so  I  die,  lest  I  might  fail  my  nobler  nature, 
and  pass  into  the  ranks  of  the  tempters. 


CECIL   DREEME.  359 

"  My  father  will  not  miss  me.  You  will  think 
pityingly  of  me,  Robert.  It  is  not  for  a  dread 
of  a  lonely  and  sorrowful  life  that  I  die,  but  to 
save  others  from  the  contamination  of  my  sin. 

"  I  shall  not  sully  this  innocent  roof  with  my 
death.  I  die  in  a  place  where  I  have  the  right 
to  enter.  My  death  there  shall  atone  for  my 
crime  there.  It  is  near  you,  Robert,  and  I  could 
wish,  if  you  can  forgive  and  pity  me,  that  you 
first  would  find  me,  in  the  dark  room  next  to 
yours,  and  be  a  little  tender  with  the  corpse  my 
purified  spirit  will  have  abandoned.  Good-bye  ! 

"  EMMA  DENMAN." 

"  Oh,  Cecil !  "  I  cried,  "  your  sister !  " 

I  sprang  toward  the  door  of  my  lumber-room. 
Beside  it  stood  a  suit  of  ancient  armor,  staring 
with  eyeless  eyes,  and  in  its  iron  fingers  it  held 
a  heavy  mace  of  steel,  —  a  terrible  weapon,  with 
its  head  studded  with  spikes,  and  rusty  with  old 
stains,  perhaps  of  Paynim  blood.  I  snatched  it, 
drew  my  bolts,  and  smote  with  all  my  force  at  the 
inner  lock  of  the  door  of  Densdeth's  dark  room. 

A  few  such  blows,  the  fastenings  tore  away, 
and  the  door  flung  open.  I  entered,  and  Cecil 
Dreeme  was  at  my  side. 

It  was  a  small  room,  but  lofty  as  mine.  By 
that  faint  light  of  impeded  twilight,  coming 
through  my  narrow  windows,  I  could  see  that 
its  furniture  was  a  very  dream  of  luxury. 


3GO  CECIL   DREEME. 

But  it  was  not  the  place  that  we  noticed, — 
for  there  in  the  dimness  we  could  discern  the 
figure  of  a  woman,  seated  in  an  arm-chair,  gazing 
at  us  with  a  pale,  dead  face. 

"  Emma,  Emma  !  "  cried  Cecil  Dreeme. 

She  did  not  speak,  —  that  dead  form  had  given 
up  its  last  words  in  the  letter  to  me.  The  sickly 
odor  of  a  deadly  drug  filled  the  room,  mingling 
with  the  perfume  I  had  noticed.  She  seemed  to 
have  been  some  hours  dead,  and  sitting  there 
alone,  unforgiven  by  man. 

We  stood  looking  at  her.  It  was  pitiful.  Her 
beauty  wasted  thus !  Her  life  self-condemned  to 
this  drear  death,  lest  her  soul  perish  with  the 
taint  of  sin ! 

I  kissed  her  forehead;  then  pressed  my  lips 
chilled  to  Cecil's  cheek. 

"  She  is  our  sister,  Cecil,"  I  whispered. 

"'  Our  sister,  Robert,  —  our  sister,  forgiven  and 
beloved." 

And  so  with  clasped  hands  we  knelt  beside  our 
sister,  and  in  silence  prayed  for  strength  in  the 
great  battle  with  sin  and  sorrow,  through  the 
solemn  days  of  our  life  together. 


THE    END. 


Cambridge  :    Stereotyped  and  Printed  by  Welch,  Bigelow,  &  Co. 


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10       A  Lift  of  Books  Publifhed 


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